PART ONE OF THE TRAGEDY

NIGHT

A high-vaulted, narrow Gothic room. FAUST, sitting restless at a desk.
FAUST. I’ve studied now, to my regret,
Philosophy, Law, Medicine,	355
and—what is worst—Theology
from end to end with diligence.
Yet here I am, a wretched fool
and still no wiser than before.
I’ve become Master, and Doctor as well,	360
and for nearly ten years I have led
my young students a merry chase,
up, down, and every which way—
and find we can’t have certitude.
This is too much for heart to bear!	365
I well may know more than all those dullards,
those doctors, teachers, officials, and priests,
be unbothered by scruples or doubts,
and fear neither hell nor its devils—
but I get no joy from anything, either,	370
know nothing that I think worthwhile,
and don’t imagine that what I teach
could better mankind or make it godly.
Then, too, I don’t have land or money,
or any splendid worldly honors.	375
No dog would want to linger on like this!
That is why I’ve turned to magic,
in hope that with the help of spirit-power
I might solve many mysteries,
so that I need no longer toil and sweat	380
to speak of what I do not know,
can learn what, deep within it,
binds the universe together,
may contemplate all seminal forces—
and be done with peddling empty words.	385
O radiant moon for whom I have
so often, waking at this desk,
sat at midnight watching until
I saw you, melancholy friend, appear
above my books and papers—would that this	390
were the last time you gazed upon my grief!
If only I, in your kind radiance,
could wander in the highest hills
and with spirits haunt some mountain cave,
could rove the meadows in your muted light	395
and, rid of all learned obfuscation,
regain my health by bathing in your dew!
Alas! I’m still confined to prison.
Accursed, musty hole of stone
to which the sun’s fair light itself	400
dimly penetrates through painted glass.
Restricted by this great mass of books
that worms consume, that dust has covered,
and that up to the ceiling-vault
are interspersed with grimy papers,	405
confined by glassware and wooden boxes
and crammed full of instruments,
stuffed with the household goods of generations—
such is your world, if world it can be called!
And still you wonder why your heart	410
is anxious and your breast constricted,
why a pain you cannot account for
inhibits your vitality completely!
You are surrounded, not by the living world
in which God placed mankind,	415
but, amid smoke and mustiness,
only by bones of beasts and of the dead.
You must escape from this confining world!
And will not this mysterious book
from Nostradamus’ very hand	420
amply provide the guidance you need?
If you can read the courses of the stars
and take from Nature your instruction,
you will understand the psychic power
by which the spirit world communicates.	425
But arid speculation won’t explain
the sacred symbols to you. –
Spirits that hover near to me,
give me an answer if you hear my voice!
(Opening the book and seeing the sign of the Macrocosm.)
Ha! as I gaze what rapture suddenly	430
begins to flow through all my senses!
I feel youth’s sacred-vital happiness
course with new fire through every vein and fiber.
Did some god inscribe these signs
that quell my inner turmoil,	435
fill my poor heart with joy,
and with mysterious force unveil
the natural powers all about me?
Am I a god? I see so clearly now!
In these lines’ perfection I behold	440
creative nature spread out before my soul.
At last I understand the sage who says:
“The spirit world is not sealed off—
your mind is closed, your heart is dead!
Go, neophyte, and boldly bathe	445
your mortal breast in roseate dawn!”
(Contemplating the sign.)
How all things interweave as one
and work and live each in the other!
Lo! heavenly forces rise, descend,
pass golden urns from hand to hand,	450
crowd from on high through all the earth
on pinions redolent of blessings,
and fill the universe with harmony!
How grand a show! But, still, alas! mere show.
Infinite Nature, when can I lay hold of you	455
and of your breasts? You fountains of all life
on which the heavens and earth depend,
towards which my withered heart is straining—
you flow, you nurse, and yet I thirst in vain!
(Turning the pages angrily, he sees the sign of the Earth Spirit.)
How different is this sign’s effect on me!	460
You, Spirit of Earth, are closer—
I feel my faculties becoming more acute,
I know the quickening glow of new-made wine.
I now feel brave enough to venture forth
and bear earth’s torments and its joys,	465
to grapple with the hurricane
and not to quail although the creaking ship break up. –
The sky becomes overcast —
the moon hides its light —
my lamp’s flame vanishes!	470
Mists arise! – Beams of red flash
about my head — a dread chill
flows down from the ceiling-vault
and has me in its hold!
Spirit to whom I pray, I feel you hover near.	475
Reveal yourself!
How my heart is tom asunder!
Strange feelings
stir my entire being!
My heart is now completely yours!	480
Obey! Obey, although my life should be the price!
He takes the book and mysteriously utters the sign of the spirit. In a flash of reddish flame the EARTH SPIRIT appears.
SPIRIT. Who calls to me?
FAUST (turning away). A fearful apparition!
SPIRIT. You’ve used great efforts to attract me,
have long exerted suction on my sphere,
and now –
FAUST. Alas, I lack the strength to face you!	485
SPIRIT. You beg and pant to see me,
to hear my voice, to view my face;
your urgent prayer has made me well disposed,
so here I am! What paltry fear
now cows a demigod! Where is the summoning soul,	490
the breast that in itself conceived a world
it bore and cherished, the breast that swelled
in trembling joy to reach our spirit-plane?
Where are you, Faust, whose ringing voice I heard,
who strove with all his faculties to reach me?	495
Can he be you who in my aura
tremble in all your depths of being—
a worm that writhes away in fright?
FAUST. I stand my ground before you, shape of flame!
I am that Faust, I am your peer!	500
SPIRIT. In the tides of life, in action’s storm,
I surge and ebb,
move to and fro!
As cradle and grave,
as unending sea,	505
as constant change,
as life’s incandescence,
I work at the whirring loom of time
and fashion the living garment of God.
FAUST. How close I feel to you, industrious spirit,	510
whose strands encompass all the world!
SPIRIT. Your peer is the spirit you comprehend;
mine you are not!	[Disappears.
FAUST (collapsing). Not yours?
Whose then?	515
I, made in God’s image,
not even your counterpart!
(A knocking is heard.)
Damnation! I know the sound of my assistant—
my happiest moment is destroyed.
Why must that humdrum plodder disturb this plenitude of visions!	520
Enter WAGNER, in dressing-gown and nightcap, a lamp in his hand. FAUST turns, irritated.
WAGNER. Excuse me, but I hear you are declaiming; no doubt you’ve been reciting some Greek tragedy? That’s a skill I wish I could improve, since it’s so useful nowadays.	525
I’ve often heard it said, with no disparagement, that actors could give preachers useful lessons. FAUST. They can, if the preachers are only performers, which I suppose may sometimes be the case. WAGNER. Still, confined to one’s study so much,	530
even on holidays hardly seeing people and getting only distant glimpses with a spyglass, how can one hope to affect them with rhetoric? FAUST. That can’t be done unless you feel some passion, unless there’s something bursting from within	535
that by its easy innate force conquers the hearts of all who hear you. You may sit and compile forever, concoct a stew of morsels left by others, and from your feeble heap of ashes	540
fan paltry flames, if you’ve an appetite for adulation from children and from simpletons; and yet, unless your heart is where all starts, your efforts won’t affect the hearts of others.	545
WAGNER. Delivery alone can make a speech a hit— I’m well aware how much I’ve still to learn. FAUST. Just try to make an honest living, and don’t put on a cap and bells! Intelligence and proper sense	550
need little art to be expressed; if you have something that you really want to say, is there a need to hunt for words? Let me be blunt: those sparkling speeches you admire, those paper baubles for mankind’s amusement,	555
give no more solace than fog-laden winds that sough through withered autumn leaves! WAGNER. Alas, that art is long, and human life so short! Even when I’m involved in critical endeavors	560
my heart and mind will often have misgivings. How hard it is to get the tools
that let one get back to the sources— and even before one’s halfway there
he’s very likely to be dead. FAUST. Is parchment then the sacred fount, and does one drink from it forever slake our thirst? There’s nothing you can gain refreshment from except what has its source in your own soul.	565
WAGNER. Excuse me if I think it a great treat to put oneself into the spirit of past ages; we see how wise men thought before our time, and to what splendid heights we have attained at last. FAUST. Oh yes, we’ve reached the very stars!	570
My friend, for us the ages that are past must be a book with seven seals. What’s called the spirit of an age is in the end the spirit of you persons in whom past ages are reflected.	575
And then it often is a sorry sight— one look’s enough to make you run away! A trash bin and a lumber-garret; at most, a grand-historical display with excellent pragmatic maxims	580
well suited to the mouths of puppet-actors! WAGNER. Still, the world, the human heart and mind— everyone wants some knowledge of these things! FAUST. Yes, what they choose to call knowledge! Who dares give the child its proper name?	585
The foolish few who, with such knowledge, failed to keep their wealth of intuitions in their hearts, revealed their feelings and their visions to the rabble, have in all times been crucified and burned. – Excuse me, friend, the night is far advanced;	590
we’ll have to stop for now. WAGNER. I would have gladly stayed up longer discussing such learned matters with you. But tomorrow’s Easter Sunday, when I hope you’ll let me ask a few more questions—	595
I’ve been assiduous in my pursuit of learning;	600
true, I know much, but all is what I’d like to know. FAUST. How can a person still have any hopes who is addicted to what’s superficial, who grubs with greedy hand for treasures	[Exit.
and then is happy to discover earthworms! Is it right to let that voice be heard where inspiration compassed me about?	605
And yet, this once you have my gratitude, you sorriest of mortals—
you snatched me from a desperation that threatened to destroy my mind. So gigantic was the apparition that I, alas, could only think myself a dwarf. I, made in God’s image, who fancied	610
that I was close to truth’s eternal mirror, who, sloughing off mortality, reveled in clear celestial radiance; I, more than Cherub, whose presentient powers then dared flow untrammeled through the veins of Nature	615
and share the gods’ creative life— how I am punished! One thundered word has been my death. It’s arrogance to claim I am your peer. Although I had the power to attract you,	620
I lacked the strength to hold you fast. In that blest moment I felt so small and yet so great; ruthlessly you thrust me back into the uncertainties that are man’s lot.	625
Who will now teach me? What am I to shun, is there an impulse that I must obey? Alas, the things we do, no less than those we suffer, impose restraints upon our lives. More and more that is extraneous	630
obtrudes upon what’s noblest in our minds; When we attain this world’s material goods, all better things are called a madman’s fancies. Feelings that before were glorious and vital grow torpid in the mundane hurly-burly.	635
Sustained by hope, Imagination once soared boldly on her boundless flights; now that our joys are wrecked in time’s abyss, she is content to have a narrow scope. – Deep in our heart Care quickly makes her nest,	640
there she engenders secret sorrows and, in that cradle restless, destroys all quiet joy; the masks she wears are always new— she may appear as house and home, as wife and child, as fire, water, dagger, poison;	645
we live in dread of things that do not happen and keep bemoaning losses that never will occur. No peer of gods! I suffer from that truth—	650
my counterpart’s the worm that grovels in the dust and, as in dust it eats and lives,
is crushed and buried by a vagrant foot. What else but dust is cramped within these high and multi-alcoved walls of mine— the heap of countless, useless things that in this world of moths beset me?	655
Is this the place to find the help I need? Should I perhaps peruse a thousand books to learn that people everywhere have suffered, that now and then someone was happy? – You empty skull, why bare your teeth at me	660
unless to say that once, like mine, your addled brain sought buoyant light but, in its eagerness for truth, went wretchedly astray beneath the weight of darkness. You instruments are only mocking me with wheel and cogs, with cylinder and bridle—	665
you were to be my key when I stood at the gate, but though it’s intricate, the key will lift no bolts. Nature, mysterious in day’s clear light, lets none remove her veil, and what she won’t discover to your understanding	670
you can’t extort from her with levers and with screws. You ancient implements I’ve never used are here only because you served my father’s needs. – You, ancient scroll, have gotten ever grimier since the dim lamp beside this desk first smouldered.	675
Far better to have squandered the little I have than to sweat here beneath that little’s burden! If you would own the things your forebears left you, you first must earn and merit their possession. What serves no use becomes a heavy burden;	680
the moment can use only what it itself creates. But what is there that holds my gaze— does that vial act as magnet on the eye? Why do I sense a sudden gentle brightness, as when in some dark forest moonlight stirs about us?	685
Hail, vial of vials! With reverence I take you down—my homage to the human wit and skill embodied in you. You essence of kind soporific forces, you extract of all subtle poisons,	690
bestow your favors on your master! I see you, and my pain is eased, I hold you, and my striving lessens—	695
my turbulence of spirit slowly ebbs away. I am transported to the open sea, its surface sparkles down below,	700
and a new day beckons to new shores. On airy wings a chariot of fire sweeps towards me! I am now ready for the fresh course that lets me pierce the sky and reach new spheres of pure activity. –	705
Yet, you but now a worm, do you deserve this grand existence, this celestial joy? Yes, if you will but turn with firm resolve your back upon the sun-lit earth! Be bold and fling the doors asunder	710
which mortals all prefer to pass in silence! The time has come to prove by deeds that a brave man is not intimidated by celestial grandeur; to stand and not to quake before the pit in which imagination damns itself to torment;	715
to strive on toward that passageway about whose narrow mouth all hell spouts flame and, even at the risk of total dissolution, to take this step with firm serenity. Now, long-forgotten cup of flawless crystal,	720
come you down— forth from your ancient case! You glistened at ancestral celebrations, enlivening the solemn guests who raised you as they pledged each other.	725
The lavish splendor of the artist’s pictures, the drinker’s duty to make verses on their meaning and in one draught to drain the bowl, bring many memories of nights when I was young. I shall not offer you to some companion now,	730
nor use your art to demonstrate my wit. Here is a juice that soon intoxicates, and whose brown stream now rises to your brim. The last drink that I have prepared and that I take, let me with all my heart now pledge it,	735
in solemn salutation, to the Morrow! As he places the cup to his lips, church bells and a choir are heard.
CHOIR (Angels’ chorus). Christ is arisen! Joy to the mortal freed from the baneful, insidious ills	740
that man is heir to.
FAUST. What depth of resonance, what clarity of tone,
can drag the goblet from my lips?
Do you announce so soon, you muffled bells,
the first solemnities of Eastertide?	745
Do you sing now, you choirs, the hymn of consolation
that by the darkened tomb, from angels’ lips,
proclaimed the certainty of a new covenant?
CHOIR (Women’s chorus).
With balm and spices
we ministered to Him,	750
we who were faithful
laid down His body,
carefully wrapped it
in pieces of linen—
lo! we discover	755
Christ is not here.
CHOIR (Angels’ chorus). Christ is arisen!
Blessed the Loving One,
He has sustained
the grievous ordeal	760
that bringeth salvation.
FAUST. Celestial tones, so gently strong,
why do you seek me here amid the dust?
Be heard where tender mortals dwell!
Although I hear your gospel, I lack your faith,	765
a faith whose dearest child is the miraculous.
I do not dare aspire to the spheres
from which your word of grace peals forth,
and yet these sounds, familiar since my youth,
summon me now again to life.	770
There was a time when in the sabbath’s solemn quiet
the kiss of heaven’s love would overcome me,
when there were portents in the choiring chimes,
and when a prayer was fervent pleasure;
some strange sweet longing would compel me	775
to rove through wood and meadow,
and to a flood of ardent tears
I’d feel a world arise within me.
This hymn announced the lively games of youth,
the happy freedom of spring celebrations;	780
the memory of childlike feelings now
keeps me from taking the last, solemn step.
O sweet celestial songs, sound on—
my tears well forth, and I am earth’s again!
CHOIR (Disciples’ chorus).
Sublime in this life,	785
He who was buried
now has ascended
to glory on high,
joyous to live again
and still to be active.	790
But we, to our sorrow,
remain on earth’s breast;
abandoned disciples,
we languish and suffer—
Master, your happiness	795
makes us shed tears!
(Angels’ chorus).       Christ is arisen
from the womb of corruption.
Be of good cheer
and get rid of your bonds!	800
You whose deeds praise Him,
who demonstrate charity,
nourish your brethren,
wander and teach them,
promise them bliss—	805
to you is your Master near,
for you He is here!

OUTSIDE THE CITY GATE

A variety of people, coming from the city.

SOME APPRENTICES. Why are you going that way?
OTHERS. We’re off to Hunter’s Lodge.
THE FIRST. And we’re heading out toward the Mill.	810
ONE. I’d recommend the River Tavern.
A SECOND. That’s not a very pleasant walk.
THE OTHERS. And what will you do?
A THIRD. Go with the others.
A FOURTH. Come on up to Burgdorf—there you can count on
the prettiest girls, the best of beer,	815
and picking a first-class quarrel too.
A FIFTH. You have a strange idea of fun—
do you want to be tanned a third time?
That’s not the place for me—it makes me queasy.
SERVANT GIRL. No, no! I’m going back to town.	820
ANOTHER. We’ll surely find him near those poplars.
THE FIRST. As if I cared!
He’ll walk with you, and on the green
he’ll only dance with you.
Your good time is no help to me!	825
THE OTHER. I’m sure he won’t be by himself today;
he said that Curly would come with him.
STUDENT. See that stride! those girls have some life in them!
Come on, it’s up to us to give them company!
I’m all for good strong beer, tobacco with real flavor—	830
and maids who have put on their Sunday best.
BURGHER’S DAUGHTER. Do you see those fine looking fellows!
It really is a shame—
they could keep perfectly nice company,
and go running after those servant girls!	835
SECOND STUDENT (to the First).
Take your time! Back there two more are coming;
they are not flashily dressed.
And one is from next door—
she’s someone I really like.
They may be walking most sedately,	840
but in the end they’ll let us come along.
THE FIRST. Not me! I’d rather not be on my best behavior.
Hurry now, or we won’t catch anything!
The hand that plies the broom on Saturday
you’ll find on Sundays has the softest touch.	845
BURGHER. No, our new burgomaster doesn’t suit me!
Now he’s in, he gets more high-handed every day.
And what is he doing for the city?
Aren’t things getting steadily worse?
More than ever we’re told what we must do,	850
and it all costs more than ever before.
BEGGAR (singing).
Kind gentlemen and ladies fair,
in handsome clothes and rosy-cheeked,
please condescend to look at me
and ease this misery you see!	855
Don’t let me turn my crank in vain!
Who gladly gives, alone is glad.
Today, when everyone is idle,
I hope my work will reap a harvest.
SECOND BURGHER.
Sundays and holidays there’s nothing I like more	860
than to discuss a war and military matters
when armies far away—off there in Turkey—
engage in battle with each other.
You can stand at the window, drinking
and watching all the ships that move downstream,	865
then go cheerfully home in the evening,
thankful for peace and its advantages.
A THIRD. Neighbor, amen! That goes for me as well—
let them crack each other’s skulls
and everything be topsy-turvy,	870
if only nothing changes here at home.
OLD WOMAN (to the Burghers’ Daughters).
Oh, how dressed up you are, you pretty young things!
Who could fail to find you adorable? –
Don’t be so haughty—no offense was meant!
You know that I can get you what you want.	875
BURGHER’S DAUGHTER. Agatha, come! I don’t want anyone to see
a witch like that and me together—
though on Saint Andrew’s night she let me see
with my own eyes the man I am to marry.
AGATHA. In her crystal she showed me mine,	880
one in a group of daring soldiers—
I keep on looking for him everywhere,
but he refuses to show up.
SOLDIERS.  Fortresses raising
battlements high,	885
girls unrelenting
in their proud scorn—
these would I capture!
Boldness of effort
pays splendid rewards!	890
We let the trumpet
announce our intention,
be it love’s pleasure
or be it grand ruin.
To the assault—	895
that’s how to live!
The girls and the castles
will surely surrender.
Boldness of effort
pays splendid rewards!	900
And then the soldiers
are off and away.
Enter FAUST and WAGNER.
FAUST. River and brooks are released from their ice, are given new life by the soft gleam of Spring, and verdure in valleys gives hope of bliss;	905
deprived of his strength, old Winter withdrew into rugged, unfriendly mountains. From them, retreating, he only can launch impotent showers of sleet over the lands that begin to be green,	910
but the Sun is hostile to whiteness and seeks to enliven with color the forms that everywhere strive to develop; yet the countryside still has no flowers, and so he takes smartly dressed people instead.	915
Turn around, now we’re up here, and look back down at the city! Out from the depths of its gloomy gate a teeming mass of color is surging— everyone’s eager to get into the sun.	920
They celebrate the resurrection of their Lord, for they themselves are risen; from wretched houses and dreary rooms, from the bonds of their crafts and professions, from the pressing weight of roof and gable,	925
from the narrow, cramping streets, from their churches’ night-like solemnity— they all have been brought forth into the light. Look and see how quickly the crowd disperses through the gardens and fields,	930
how the whole expanse of the river carries colorful vessels along, and how, so crowded that it almost sinks, the last small boat is pushing off. Even on distant hillside paths	935
clothing affords us flashes of color. – But now I hear the bustle of the village; here is the common man’s true heaven, here great and small exult contented— here I am human and can be myself.	940
WAGNER. To take a walk with you, Professor, is a great honor, and edifying too; but on my own I wouldn’t stray this way, detesting as I do whatever’s vulgar. Fiddling, shouts, the noise of the bowls	945
are sounds that I do much abhor;
the people carry on as if the fiend possessed them, then call it entertainment, call it singing. VILLAGERS (dancing and singing beneath a linden tree). When for the dance the shepherd dressed in ribbon, wreath, and colored vest	950
he was the height of fashion. Beneath the tree no room remained, and all were dancing madly. Hey-day! hey-day! and a hey-nonny hey!	955
was what the fiddle played. He quickly pushed into the whirl, but as he did so hit a girl ungently with his elbow; a sturdy lass, she turned and said,	960
“You, must you be so clumsy?” Hey-day! hey-day! and a hey-nonny hey! “Pretend you have some manners!” But in the ring their feet were light,	965
they danced to left, they danced to right, with skirt and coat-tail flying. They got all flushed, were over-warm, and rested panting arm in arm— Hey-day! hey-day!	970
and a hey-nonny hey!— and hips in elbow-hold. “And don’t you make so free with me— how many girls as brides-to-be are victims of deceivers!”	975
He coaxed her nonetheless aside, but from afar they still heard shouts: hey-day! hey-day! and a hey-nonny hey! and the fiddle under the linden.	980
OLD PEASANT. Professor, it is good of you to deign to be with us today and, learned doctor though you are, to mingle with us ordinary folk. And so accept our finest tankard,	985
which we have filled afresh for you; I pledge it to you, and I voice the wish that it not only slake your thirst, but also that each drop it holds be one more day that’s added to your life.	990
FAUST. Your tankard I accept and its refreshment with thanks and wishes of good health to all.
The VILLAGERS form a circle about FAUST and WAGNER.
OLD PEASANT. It is indeed appropriate that on this festive day you come among us; as well we know, when times were bad	995
you always were disposed to help us! Many a man is here alive who, at the time your father stopped the plague, was snatched by him at the last moment from the burning frenzy of his fever.	1000
You too—you were a young man then— would enter every stricken house and yet, although they carried off so many corpses, you always would come out unharmed, surviving every trial and test—	1005
by the Helper above our helper was helped. VILLAGERS. Good health to one who’s tried and true, and may he be our help for many years to come! FAUST. Offer your homage to the Helper above Who teaches that we all should help each other.	1010
FAUST and WAGNER resume their walk.
WAGNER. What feelings, sir, you must derive from the respect of all these people for your greatness! How happy is the man who is allowed to turn his talents to such good account! Some father points you out to his young boy,	1015
and people ask your name, stand still and crowd about you, the fiddle stops, the dancers pause. As you move on, they stand in rows and fling their caps into the air— a little more, and they would genuflect	1020
as if the blessed sacrament were going by! FAUST. It’s but a few more steps up to that stone; here we can rest a while from walking. I’ve often sat alone here with my thoughts and agonized in prayer and fasting.	1025
Still full of hope and firm of faith, I wept and sighed and wrung my hands believing that such efforts could extort from God in heaven termination of the plague. Now, in the people’s praise I only hear derision.	1030
If you could read my soul and see how little either son or father deserved such approbation!
My father was a worthy commoner who in good faith, but in his own eccentric way,	1035
labored at fanciful speculations about the mystic spheres of nature, and who, together with his adepts, would shut himself within his blackened kitchen and mix contrary elements	1040
according to recipes that never seemed to end. There a mercurial suitor, the Red Lion, would in a tepid bath be married to the Lily, then both be driven by tormenting flames out of one bridal chamber to another;	1045
when in the beaker the Young Queen at last appeared, a mass of color, that was our medicine—the patients died, and no one thought to ask if anyone was healed. And so, with diabolical electuaries,	1050
we ravaged in these hills and valleys with greater fury than the plague. I have myself dosed thousands with the poison; they wasted away—and I must live to hear the brazen murderers adulated.	1055
WAGNER. How can you be disturbed by that! Is it not sufficient for an honest man to practice with punctilious exactness the skills of the profession he’s been taught? If, in your youth, you venerate your father,	1060
you’re pleased to take what he can give you; if you, as man, augment our knowledge, your son may reach an even higher mark. FAUST. Happy the man who still can hope to swim to safety in this sea of error.	1065
What we don’t know is what we really need, and what we know fulfills no need at all. – But we must not let such dark thoughts spoil the wealth of beauty that this hour can afford! See how, against the green about them,	1070
cottages gleam in the blazing sunset. The sun moves on, retreats, and, after day is done, hastens away to nurture life elsewhere— if only I had wings to raise me from the ground so that I might pursue it on its course forever!	1075
I’d see the silent world below in an eternal evening-radiance, all peaks aflame, all valleys hushed,
the silver brook debouching into golden rivers;
no savage mountain or its many gorges would then impede my godlike passage— astonished eyes survey the ocean now and inlets that the sun has warmed. At last the sungod seems about to sink from view,	1080
but then my urge to follow is again aroused; I hasten on, to drink its everlasting light, the day before me and, behind me, night, the sky above me and, beneath, the sea. A glorious dream—meanwhile the sun is gone!	1085
Alas! it is so hard to find corporeal wings that match those of the human mind. Yet in us all there is an innate urge to rise aloft and soar along when, lost in the blue space above us,	1090
the lark pours forth its vibrant song, when high above fir-covered crags the eagle floats on outspread wing, and when above the plains and lakes the crane seeks out its native place.	1095
WAGNER. I’ve often had my momentary fancies, but that’s an urge I never yet have felt. One quickly gets his fill of seeing woods and fields, and I shall never envy any bird its wings. How different is the way the pleasures of the mind	1100
transport us from book to book, from page to page! Then winter nights are pleasant and congenial, a vital happiness gives warmth to your whole being, and if you do unroll some precious manuscript celestial joy is yours on earth.	1105
FAUST. You only know one driving force, and may you never seek to know the other! Two souls, alas! reside within my breast, and each is eager for a separation: in throes of coarse desire, one grips	1110
the earth with all its senses; the other struggles from the dust to rise to high ancestral spheres. If there are spirits in the air who hold domain between this world and heaven—	1115
out of your golden haze descend, transport me to a new and brighter life! If I but had a magic cloak	1120
that could bear me away to exotic places, I’d not exchange it for the choicest garments, not even for the mantle of a king.	1125
WAGNER. Do not invoke the too familiar host that floods the murky air, threatening mankind from every quarter with danger in a thousand forms. Out of the North the fanged spirits	1130
come to press upon you with their pointed tongues; from the East they make their withering advance to feed upon your lungs; and if the South should send them from the desert to heap fire upon fire about your head,	1135
the West will bring a troop that first refreshes, then drowns you and your fields and meadows. They are all ears and eager to do harm, gladly obey because they gladly cheat us, pretend that they are sent from heaven,	1140
and murmur like angels when telling their lies. But let us go! Already all is gray, the air grown cool, the fog descending: when evening comes, we know a home’s full worth. – Why are you standing still and staring off there?	1145
What can so impress you in this failing light? FAUST. Do you see the black dog scour the grain that sprouts from the stubble?
WAGNER. I saw it long ago, but thought it unimportant. FAUST. Observe it well! What do you think the creature is? WAGNER. A poodle that in the usual way	1150
goes to the trouble of tracking its master! FAUST. Do you notice how it races around us in a great spiral, getting closer and closer? And unless I’m mistaken, an eddy of fire follows closely wherever it goes.	1155
WAGNER. A mere black poodle is what I see— you, I suspect, some optical illusion. FAUST. It’s my impression that, with quiet magic, the dog is laying about our feet the snares of future bondage. WAGNER. I see it run around us, timid and unsure	1160
because it sees two strangers, not its master. FAUST. The circle is narrowing, the dog’s close at hand! WAGNER. You see a dog, there’s no spectre there. It snarls and hesitates, lies down on its belly, it wags its tail—all just what dogs do.	1165

FAUST. Come and join us! Come here! WAGNER. It’s a silly sort of creature: if you stand still, it sits attentive; speak to it, and it’s all over you; let something drop, and it will fetch it—	1170
even jump in the water for your cane. FAUST. No doubt you’re right: I find no trace of mind—it’s only training. WAGNER. When a dog has been well taught, even a man of sense can like it.	1175
So apt a pupil of our students indeed deserves to be in your good graces.	[Exeunt through city gate.

FAUST’S STUDY

Enter FAUST, with the poodle.

FAUST.     I’ve left behind the fields and meadows that night now veils in darkness— night, whose presentient holy dread	1180
awakes in us our better soul. Forces of passion are lulled to sleep as restless action ceases; love of our fellow man is rousing, and with it love of God as well.	1185
Easy, Poodle! Stop running about! Why are you sniffing the sill of that door? Lie down behind the stove— here’s my best cushion! Your running and jumping along the road	1190
entertained us out on the hillside, now let me entertain you in my turn— a welcome guest if you’ll stay quiet. Ah, when within our narrow chamber the friendly lamp again is lit,	1195
our inner being too is brightened— our heart, that then can know itself. The voice of reason is heard again, and hope again begins to flower; we thirst for life-giving waters,	1200
we long for life’s fountainhead. Poodle, don’t growl! that animal sound jars with the sacred harmonies
that now encompass my whole being.
We take it for granted that people jeer at what they do not understand, and groan in the presence of goodness and beauty, which often just makes them embarrassed. Must a dog, like them, snarl at such things?	1205
Alas! despite the best intentions, I feel contentment ebbing in my breast already. Why must its stream run dry so soon and leave us thirsting once again, as has been the case with me so often?	1210
Still, this want can be supplied: we have been taught to find great worth in what’s celestial; we pine and yearn for revelation, whose fire bums in the New Testament with dignity and beauty not elsewhere matched.	1215
I feel impelled to open the text on which all rests and, deeply moved, properly translate the sacred Greek original into my own dear native tongue.	1220
(Opening a large volume and preparing to write.)
It is written, “In the beginning was the Word.”
How soon I’m stopped! Who’ll help me to go on? I cannot concede that words have such high worth and must, if properly inspired, translate the term some other way. It is written: “In the beginning was the Mind.”	1225
Reflect with care upon this first line, and do not let your pen be hasty! Can it be mind that makes all operate? I’d better write: “In the beginning was the Power!” Yet, even as I write this down,	1230
something warns me not to keep it. My spirit prompts me, now I see a solution and boldly write: “In the beginning was the Act.” If I’m to share the room with you, Poodle, stop your baying,	1235
stop that barking! In these close quarters I can’t bear to keep so bothersome a companion. One of us—either you or I— will have to leave the room:	1240
I’m sorry to be no longer hospitable, the door is open, you’re free to go. But what do I see!	1245
Is that a natural occurrence,
illusion or reality?
How long and broad my poodle’s becoming!	1250
It’s rising prodigiously—
that is not a canine form!
What a ghastly thing I’ve brought into the house!
Hippopotamus-like it looks,
with fire-red eyes and frightful jaws.	1255
But I will master you!—
for such a hybrid spawned in Hell
Solomon’s Key will do quite well.
SPIRITS (in the passage). One of us inside is caught—
stay outside and join him not!	1260
Like the fox in an iron snare,
a sly old devil’s quivering there.
Now take good heed:
hover high, hover low,
to and fro,	1265
and from durance he’ll get free!
You can assist him,
don’t leave him victim—
long we owe him, every one,
many favors he has done.	1270
FAUST. Merely to challenge the creature
I must employ the Spell of Four:
Glow, Salamander!
Undine, meander!
Sylph, disappear!	1275
Gnome, toil away here!
None who lacks knowledge—
of the Elements,
of their powers
and attributes—	1280
ever should claim
to be master of Spirits.
O vanish in fire’s gleam,
Salamander!
Merge with a murmuring stream,	1285
O Undine!
In meteoric beauty shine,
O Sylph!
Help about the house as friend,
Incubus, Incubus! –	1290
Spirit, emerge, that I may end.
None of the Four
hides in the creature.
It lies all still and sneers disdain—
till now I’ve failed to cause it pain.	1295
But you shall hear me
cast a stronger spell:
Fellow, if you be
a fugitive from Hell,
behold the Sign	1300
before which incline
the legions of darkness!
It starts to swell—its hair’s on end.
Being damned and reprobate,
can you read this token?—	1305
Him that never was create,
Him whose name must not be spoken,
Who pervades the universe,
though transpierced by lance accursed.
Driven back of the stove by the spell,	1310
it is dilating to elephant size;
filling every bit of space,
it’s now about to melt away as mist.
Stop ascending to the ceiling!
Lie down at your master’s feet!	1315
Now you know I make no empty threats.
I can scorch you with sacred fire!
Do not wait until you see
the glowing light of the Trinity,
do not wait until you see	1320
the mightiest of all my arts!
Enter MEPHISTOPHELES from behind the stove as the mist subsides; he is dressed as a goliard.
MEPHISTOPHELES. What’s all the noise? Sir, how can I be of service?
FAUST. So that is what was hidden in the poodle:
a wandering scholar! The casus is amusing.
MEPHISTOPHELES. My compliments to your learning, sir!	1325
you made me sweat profusely.
FAUST. What is your name?
MEPHISTOPHELES. That seems a petty question
from one who is so scornful of the Word
and who, aloof from mere appearance,
only aspires to plumb the depths of essence.	1330
FAUST. The essence of such as you, good sir,
can usually be inferred from names that, like Lord of Flies, Destroyer, Liar, reveal it all too plainly. But still I ask, who are you? MEPHISTOPHELES. A part of that force	1335
which, always willing evil, always produces good. FAUST. That is a riddle. What does it mean? MEPHISTOPHELES. I am the Spirit of Eternal Negation, and rightly so, since all that gains existence is only fit to be destroyed; that’s why	1340
it would be best if nothing ever got created. Accordingly, my essence is what you call sin, destruction, or—to speak plainly—Evil. FAUST. You call yourself a part, yet stand before me whole?	1345
MEPHISTOPHELES. I only speak the sober truth. You mortals, microcosmic fools, may like to think of yourselves as complete, but I’m a part of the Part that first was all, part of the Darkness that gave birth to Light—	1350
proud Light, that now contests the senior rank of Mother Night, disputes her rights to space; yet it does not succeed, however much it strives, because it can’t escape material fetters. Light emanates from matter, lends it beauty,	1355
but matter checks the course of light, and so I hope it won’t be long before they both have been annihilated. FAUST. Now I see your meritorious function! You can’t achieve wholesale destruction	1360
and so you’ve started out at retail. MEPHISTOPHELES. And to be candid, the business doesn’t thrive. This awkward world, this Something which confronts as foe my Nothing— despite all efforts up to now,	1365
I’ve failed to get the better of it: in spite of tempest, earthquake, wave, and fire, ocean and land are unperturbed! And as for that stupid stuff, the spawn of beast and man, there’s no way to make inroads on it.	1370
To think how many I’ve already buried, yet fresh young blood still keeps on circulating. On and on—it could make anyone see red! From air, from water, and from earth a myriad of germs crawl forth	1375
in dryness, moisture, heat, or cold!
If I had not kept fire for myself,
there would be nothing I could call my own.
FAUST. And so you raise your frigid fist,
clenched in futile diabolic malice,	1380
against the power of ever-stirring,
beneficent creativity!
You would do well, strange Son of Chaos,
to try some other enterprise.
MEPHISTOPHELES. We’ll really have to give some thought to this;	1385
let’s talk about it more at our next meetings.
May I assume that I am now excused?
FAUST. I don’t see why you ask permission.
Now that I’ve made your acquaintance,
you may pay me a visit whenever you wish.	1390
The window’s here, and here the door;
a flue would suit you quite as well.
MEPHISTOPHELES. There’s a confession I must make.
A little obstacle prevents my walking out:
the incubus-foot on the sill of your door!	1395
FAUST. You are distressed by the pentagram?
Well, tell me then, you Son of Hell,
how you got in while subject to its spell,
and how a spirit such as you was tricked.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Look carefully and you will find it’s badly drawn:	1400
one point (the one that faces outward)
is, as you see, not quite completely closed.
FAUST. That is indeed a lucky chance,
and so—you claim—you are my prisoner?
This is a triumph that was not intended!	1405
MEPHISTOPHELES. The poodle noticed nothing when it bounded in,
but now the situation’s changed:
the demon’s caught inside your house.
FAUST. Why don’t you go through the window, then?
MEPHISTOPHELES. For demons and for spectres there’s a rule:	1410
where they’ve got in is where they must go out.
The former’s up to us, the latter’s not in our control.
FAUST. So even Hell is bound by laws?
I like your implication that one could
safely make contracts with you gentlemen!	1415
MEPHISTOPHELES. You can be sure of getting all we promise,
without a single niggardly deduction.
But it takes time to work out such arrangements,
so let’s discuss the matter fairly soon.
Right now, however, I urgently request	1420
that this one time you give me leave to leave.
FAUST. Do stay another moment and, before you go,
let me hear more of your fine stories.
MEPHISTOPHELES. It’s time you let me go! I’ll call again soon,
and then you can ask any question you wish.	1425
FAUST. I didn’t lay a snare for you!
You put yourself into the trap.
A devil in hand is well worth keeping:
it takes a good while to catch one again.
MEPHISTOPHELES. If it’s your wish, of course I’m glad to stay	1430
and keep you company—but only if
you’ll let me use the arts in which I’m skilled
to entertain you in a proper way.
FAUST. I’ve no objection, and leave the choice to you.
Just see to it your arts are entertaining!	1435
MEPHISTOPHELES. My friend, from this conjuncture you’ll obtain
more pleasure of a sensuous kind
than from a whole monotonous year.
What you hear these gentle spirits sing,
the lovely pictures that they bring,	1440
are more than empty magic-show.
Your sense of smell will be delighted,
your palate, too, will be excited,
and then your sense of touch ecstatic glow.
For preparation there’s no need;	1445
you have me here, so just proceed!
SPIRITS.    Vanish, dark arches,
high but confining!
Let azure blueness,
brighter, more friendly,	1450
show from on high!
Would that the dark clouds
quickly departed!
Little stars twinkle;
planets among them	1455
gleam in the sky.
Beauty ethereal—
youths truly heavenly,
gracefully bending—
floats lightly past.	1460
Fond yearnings follow
them on their paths:
fluttering bits
of garments abandoned
brighten the landscape,	1465
brighten the bower
where lost in illusion
lover unites
with lover for ever.
Bowers are vineyards!	1470
Tendrils luxuriate!
Grapes hanging heavy
hasten to fill
the vats that will press them;
wines, effervescent,	1475
hasten as brooks
through crystalline rocks
that never are sullied,
soon leave behind
the arbors above,	1480
becoming broad lakes
that mirror and nurture
hills and their verdure.
Birds of the air,
imbibing delight,	1485
fly on toward the sun,
fly off to far islands,
brilliant and bright,
deceptively rocking	1490
on cradling waters—
islands with meadows
where we see dancers
gathered in groups
and finding amusement	1495
out in the country.
Lo! some are climbing
over the highlands,
others are swimming
in quiet lakes	1500
or float through the air—
all seeking life’s fullness,
hoping to find
the far-distant star
of rapture and bliss.	1505
MEPHISTOPHELES. The rest, my insubstantial lads, can keep;
you’ve done your duty, he’s lulled to sleep,
and for your concert I am much obliged. –
But you’re not yet the man to hold a demon captive! –
Encompass him with lovely apparitions,	1510
plunge him into a sea of mad illusion!

But to undo this doorsill-magic,
tooth of rat is what I need.
I will not have to conjure long;
the one I hear scurrying will quickly hear me.	1515
The Lord of Rats and Lord of Mice,
Lord of the Flies, Frogs, Bugs, and Lice,
summons you to venture forth
and, at the spot he dabs with oil,
to nibble away the wood of the sill.	1520
So soon you come bounding into view!
To work, at once! The point that cast the spell
to keep me here is on the very outer edge.
Just one more bite and you’ll be done. –
Now, Faustus, till we meet again, dream on!	[Exit.    1525
FAUST (awakening). Have I been duped once more?
Are life-giving forces so quickly spent—
did a lying dream invent my devil,
and did a poodle simply run away?

FAUST’S STUDY

FAUST and, heard offstage, MEPHISTOPHELES.

FAUST. A knock? Come in! Who bothers me this time?	1530
MEPHISTOPHELES. It’s me.
FAUST. Come in!
MEPHISTOPHELES. That must be said three times.
FAUST. Come in, then!
MEPHISTO (entering). Now you’ve done it right!
I hope we may get on well together;
to cure you of your anxious fancies,
I’ve come as a young nobleman	1535
in scarlet suit with golden trim;
my cloak is heavy corded silk,
there’s a cock’s-feather on my hat
and, at my side, a long, sharp sword.
Take my advice and get yourself	1540
an outfit similar to mine,
so that, released from bondage, you can learn
what life and freedom really are.
FAUST. No matter what I wear, I hardly can escape
the torment of a life confined to earth.	1545
I am too old to live for pleasure only,
too young to be without desire. What can I hope for from this world? You must abstain, refrain, renounce—
this is the everlasting song in every ear, one that, our whole life long, we hear each hour hoarsely singing. When morning comes, I always wake in terror	1550
and feel like shedding bitter tears because the day I see will not fulfill a single wish of mine before it’s over, will dampen any faintest hope of pleasure by its capricious strictures,	1555
and with a thousand petty matters will stifle the creative urge that stirs my heart. At nightfall, too, I’m filled with apprehension when it is time to go to bed, for there as well I’ll fail to gain repose	1560
and will be frightened by wild dreams. The god that dwells within my breast can deeply stir my inmost being; the one that governs all my faculties cannot realize its purposes;	1565
and so for me existence is a burden, death to be welcomed, and this life detested. MEPHISTOPHELES. And yet Death never is a wholly welcome guest. FAUST. Happy the victor on whose brow Death binds the blood-flecked wreath of laurel!	1570
And happy he who, after the mad dance, is found by Death in love’s embrace! What ecstasy to feel that lofty spirit’s might— if only, then, my soul had left this body! MEPHISTOPHELES. Still, someone, on that Easter night,	1575
failed to imbibe a certain brownish fluid. FAUST. You seem to like to play the spy. Mephistopheles. I may not be omniscient, but I do know quite a lot. FAUST. Though, then, sweet music long familiar rescued me from a host of terrors,	1580
and echoes of an earlier, happier time confused what still remained of childhood feelings, now I can only curse all the enticements that delude my soul with cheating visions, all powers of persuasion and deception	1585
that hold it here within its dreary cave! Cursed be, to start, the high opinion that the mind has of itself!	1590
Cursed be what as appearance
intrudes on and deludes our senses!
and cursed be the falseness of our dreams,	1595
their empty promise of a lasting name!
Cursed be what flatters us as things we own,
as wife and child, as fields our workmen plow!
Cursed be Mammon too, both when he, with his treasures,
incites us to bold enterprise	1600
and when, to provide us idle pleasure,
he cushions us a bed of ease!
A curse upon the nectar of the vine!
A curse upon love’s highest favors!
A curse on hope! a curse on faith!	1605
but cursed be patience most of all!
CHORUS OF SPIRITS (invisible).
Grief and woe!
A beautiful world
that, by your violence,
has been destroyed,	1610
collapses and shatters,
crushed by a demigod!
Into the Void
we bear off the fragments,
singing a dirge	1615
for beauty now lost.
Build it again,
O great child of Earth,
within your own bosom
build it anew	1620
in still greater splendor!
Take a fresh course
and, no longer despairing,
start a new life;
and may other songs	1625
welcome it in!
MEPHISTOPHELES.   Those little creatures
are my young dependents,
wise for their years;
fun and action—that’s their counsel!	1630
They’d like to get you
out into the world,
away from a solitude
that stifles all life. –
Be done with toying with your sorrows	1635
that, vulture-like, consume your being;
the worst society there is could show you that you are just another human being. Not that I mean you should be thrust among the rabble!	1640
I’m not one of the great myself; but should you wish to make your way through life with me, I’ll gladly place myself at your disposal here and now.	1645
I will be your companion and, if I suit you, become your servant and your slave! FAUST. And in return for this, what am I to do? MEPHISTO. You’ve lots of time until that needs to be considered.	1650
FAUST. Oh no! The devil is an egoist and is not apt, for love of God, to offer anyone assistance. State in clear terms what you expect— there’s trouble in the household otherwise.	1655
Mephistopheles. I’ll bind myself to serve you here, be at your beck and call without respite; and if or when we meet again beyond, then you will do the same for me. FAUST. With the Beyond I cannot be much bothered;	1660
once you annihilate this world, the other can have its turn at existing. This earth’s the source of all my joys, and this sun shines upon my sorrows; if ever I can be divorced from them,	1665
it cannot matter what then happens. I do not want to hear still more discussion of whether there’ll be future loves and hates, and whether also, in those spheres, there’s an Above or a Below.	1670
MEPHISTOPHELES. You can, on these conditions, take the risk. Commit yourself, and you’ll soon have the pleasure of seeing here what my skills are; I’ll give you things no mortal’s ever seen. FAUST. And what have you to give, poor devil!	1675
Has any human spirit and its aspirations ever been understood by such as you? Of course you’ve food that cannot satisfy, gold that, when held, will liquify quicksilverlike as it turns red,	1680
games at which none can ever win,
a girl who, even in my arms, will with her eyes
pledge her affections to another,
the godlike satisfaction of great honor
that like a meteor is gone at once.	1685
Show me the fruit that, still unplucked, will rot
and trees that leaf each day anew!
MEPHISTOPHELES. These commissions don’t dismay me,
I can oblige you with such marvels.
But, friend, there also comes a time when we prefer	1690
to savor something good in peace and quiet.
FAUST. If on a bed of sloth I ever lie contented,
may I be done for then and there!
If ever you, with lies and flattery,
can lull me into self-complacency	1695
or dupe me with a life of pleasure,
may that day be the last for me!
This is my wager!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Here’s my hand!
FAUST.  And mine again!
If I should ever say to any moment:
Tarry, remain!—you are so fair!	1700
then you may lay your fetters on me,
then I will gladly be destroyed!
Then they can toll the passing bell,
your obligations then be ended—
the clock may stop, its hand may fall,	1705
and time at last for me be over!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Consider well your words—we’ll not forget them.
FAUST. Nor should you! What I’ve said
is not presumptuous blasphemy.
If I stagnate, I am a slave—	1710
why should I care if yours or someone else’s?
MEPHISTOPHELES. This very day at the doctoral banquet,
I’ll do my duty as your servant.
One other matter!—as insurance
I must request a line or two in writing.	1715
FAUST. So you want something written, too, you pedant?
Have you not ever known a man whose word was good?
Is it not enough that my spoken word
grants perpetual title to my days?
Do not the tides of life race on unceasing—	1720
how could a promise obligate me!
But still our hearts have their illusions,
and who would care to live without them?
Happy the man whose heart is loyal to his pledges—
he’ll not be grieved by any sacrifice they ask. And yet, a parchment document that bears a seal— that is a spectre that all people shun. The word begins to die before it’s left the pen, and wax and goatskin take control.	1725
What do you, evil spirit, want from me— marble or brass, foolscap or parchment? Am I to write with chisel, stylus, pen? You are at liberty to choose. MEPHISTOPHELES. How can you work yourself up so quickly	1730
to this heat of rhetorical exaggeration? Any small scrap of paper is all right. A tiny drop of blood will do to sign your name. FAUST. If this is all that you require, we may as well go through with the tomfoolery.	1735
MEPHISTOPHELES. Blood is a very special juice. FAUST. You need not fear that I will break this contract! It is to strive with all my might that I am promising to do. My self-esteem was overly inflated—	1740
my proper place is on your level. The Great Spirit rejected me with scorn, and Nature’s doors are closed against me. The thread of thought is tom asunder, and I am surfeited with knowledge still.	1745
Let us sate the fervors of passion in depths of sensuality! May your magic be ready at any time to show me miracles whose veil cannot be lifted! Let’s plunge into the torrents of time,	1750
into the whirl of eventful existence! There, as chance wills, let pain and pleasure, success and frustration, alternate; unceasing activity alone reveals our worth.	1755
MEPHISTOPHELES. You are not limited in any way. You can sample whatever you like and snatch what suits your passing fancy— nothing you like will give you indigestion. I urge you: help yourself and don’t be bashful!	1760
FAUST. You heard me say that pleasure doesn’t matter. Excitement, poignant happiness, love-hate, quickening frustration—to these I’m consecrated! Henceforth my heart, cured of its thirst for knowledge, will welcome pain and suffering	1765
and I’m resolved my inmost being shall share in what’s the lot of all mankind, that I shall understand their heights and depths, shall fill my heart with all their joys and griefs, and so expand my self to theirs	1770
and, like them, suffer shipwreck too. MEPHISTOPHELES. Take someone’s word who has been chewing on this tough morsel many thousand years: no one, from cradle to the bier, is able to digest that stale and sour dough!	1775
This universe—believe a devil— was made for no one but a god! God lives surrounded by eternal glory, He cast us into utter darkness, and you must be content with day-and-night. FAUST. I’ve told you what I want!	1780
MEPHISTOPHELES. Then well and good! Yet, there’s one point that troubles me: that human life’s so short, and art is long. I think that you could use a bit of guidance. Go get yourself a poet-partner	1785
and let his fancy have free rein to heap upon your honored head all virtues and distinctions: a lion’s heart, the quickness of the stag,	1790
hot Italian blood, the North’s reliability. Let him provide you with the secret arts of wedding magnanimity to malice, of scheming how to fall in love	1795
with the impulsive ardor of the young. I wouldn’t mind meeting such a fellow myself and would grant him the title of Sir Microcosm. FAUST. What am I, then, if there is no attaining those crowning heights of humanness	1800
toward which my every fiber’s straining? MEPHISTOPHELES. The upshot is: you are just what you are. Pile wigs with countless curls upon your head, wear shoes that lift you up an ell, and still you will remain just what you are.	1805
FAUST. How futile it has been to have amassed a treasury of human thought and knowledge! Even when I finally stop and rest, I feel no source of renewed strength within me;	1810
I have not grown one whit in stature,
I am no nearer to the Infinite.	1815
MEPHISTOPHELES. You’re looking at these matters, my dear sir,
the way that ordinary people do;
we’ve got to be a bit more clever,
to get some joy from life before it’s fled.
Good heavens! It is obvious your hands and feet,	1820
your head—and other parts—belong to you;
but all the things I have free use of,
don’t they belong to me as fully?
If I can pay for six strong horses,
do I not own their power?—	1825
as if my legs were twenty-four
I run about and am important.
So don’t be glum! Stop all this brooding,
be off with me at once into the world!
Take my word for it, anyone who thinks too much	1830
is like an animal that in a barren heath
some evil spirit drives around in circles
while all about lie fine green pastures.
FAUST. How do we start?
MEPHISTOPHELES.  We simply leave.
What sort of torture chamber have we here?	1835
What kind of life do you call this,
boring yourself and your beardless youths?
Leave that to your colleague Paunch!
Why knock yourself out making bricks of straw?
If any case, you cannot risk	1840
telling the boys the best of what you know. –
I hear one now out in the hall.
FAUST. I cannot bring myself to face him.
MEPHISTOPHELES. The poor fellow has had a long wait,
he mustn’t leave without some consolation.	1845
Just let me have your cap and gown—
(Changing clothes.) this costume’s certain to become me—
and rely on my common sense!
A quarter of an hour’s all I need;
meanwhile, get ready for our glorious expedition!	1850
	[Exit FAUST.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Scorn learning, if you must, and reason,
the highest faculty mankind possesses,
let your fondness for self-deception
involve you deeper still in magic and illusion,
and it’s dead certain you’ll be mine! –	1855
Fate has endowed him with a spirit
that cannot curb its onward rush and that, precipitately striving, overleaps the joys that this world affords it. I’ll drag him through a life of riot,	1860
through meaningless inanities; he’ll writhe, be paralyzed, and when he’s stuck, before his avid, starving lips I’ll dangle food and drink; he’ll plead in vain for nourishment,	1865
and even if he had no contract with the devil, he’d end up ruined anyhow!
Enter a STUDENT.
STUDENT. I’ve only been here a short time, and come to pay you my respects, and to consult a man whose name is mentioned	1870
in tones of reverence by all. MEPHISTOPHELES. Your courtesy is much appreciated! As you can see, I’m just a man like all the rest. Have you paid any other calls as yet? STUDENT. I hope you’ll please be my advisor.	1875
I’m here with all the best intentions, am energetic and in no great need of money; my mother hesitated to send me away; now I’m out here, I really want to learn. MEPHISTOPHELES. Then you have come to the right place.	1880
STUDENT. To tell the truth, I’d like to go on somewhere else: I really don’t feel comfortable inside these walls, within these halls. It’s awfully cramped, and one can’t see a bit of green, a single tree,	1885
and in those classrooms with their benches I can no longer hear or see or think. MEPHISTOPHELES. It’s simply a matter of what you’re used to. Just as an infant is at first reluctant to take its mother’s breast,	1890
at which it soon feeds eagerly, so will you, with each successive day, be happier at Wisdom’s breasts. STUDENT. I’m eager to be at her bosom; but tell me, please, how can I get there?	1895
MEPHISTOPHELES. Before you go on, would you first say in what faculty you intend to study? STUDENT. I’d like to be a proper scholar and have a comprehensive knowledge of what there is on earth and in the sky,	1900
of nature and all the branches of learning. MEPHISTOPHELES. You certainly are on the right track; but you must be sure that nothing distracts you. STUDENT. Body and soul I’m bent upon it; and yet, I must admit, I wouldn’t mind	1905
some free time and recreation when there’s a pleasant summer holiday. MEPHISTOPHELES. Don’t waste your time, it’s gone so fast, but arranging it right will save you plenty of it. Accordingly, dear friend, my first advice	1910
is that you hear the Collegium Logicum. The course will discipline your mind and lace it tight in iron-boots so that it will no longer rush headlong along the paths of thought	1915
or, like a will-o’-the-wisp perhaps, wander at random everywhere. Days on end will be used to teach you that what you once did as a single act, as easily as you eat or drink,	1920
must really be done as one-two-three. Although in fact the fabric of thought is like a masterpiece of weaving, for which one treadle moves a thousand threads as back and forth the shuttles fly	1925
and threads move quicker than the eye and a single stroke makes a thousand ties, nonetheless the philosopher comes and proves to you it had to be thus: the first was so, the second so,	1930
and hence the third and fourth are so; but if there were no first and second the third and fourth could never exist. Students applaud this everywhere, but fail to master the weaver’s art.	1935
To understand some living thing and to describe it, the student starts by ridding it of its spirit; he then holds all its parts within his hand except, alas! for the spirit that bound them together— which chemists, unaware they’re being ridiculous,	1940
denominate encheiresin naturae. STUDENT. I don’t quite follow what you’re saying. MEPHISTOPHELES. It will be much easier very soon, when you have learned the use of syllogisms and how to put all things in their right classes.	1945
STUDENT. I am as stupefied by this as if there were a mill-wheel turning in my head. MEPHISTOPHELES. After this, and before anything else, you’ve got to tackle metaphysics! Make sure you grasp in all its profundity	1950
what never was meant for the human brain; but whether it was or whether it wasn’t, there’s always some high-sounding word available. But in your first semester, most of all, you must be faithfully methodical!	1955
You’ll have five classes every day; when the bell rings be in your seat! Be well prepared before you go and memorize each section you’re assigned so that, once you are there, you can make sure	1960
nothing is said but what is in the book; but by all means keep diligently writing as if you heard the Holy Ghost dictating! STUDENT. That’s nothing you need tell me twice! I see how useful it will be—	1965
what you’ve got down in black and white you can take home and then be sure of it. MEPHISTOPHELES. Now tell me what’s the faculty you’ve chosen! STUDENT. I can’t quite bring myself to take up law. MEPHISTOPHELES. Nor can I blame you very much for that,	1970
knowing as I do the state it’s in today. Statutes and laws, like inherited sickness, are languidly transmitted from one generation to the next and slowly shift from one place to another.	1975
Sense becomes nonsense, or a benefit a nuisance— it’s just too bad you’re a descendant! As for the right that’s ours by birth, alas! that never is at issue. STUDENT. You make my own aversion greater.	1980
Happy he, who has you as teacher! Now I’m almost willing to study theology. MEPHISTOPHELES. I wouldn’t want you to be led astray. To tell the truth about this branch of learning, it’s hard to keep from taking the wrong course,	1985
and there’s a lot of latent poison in it that hardly differs from the medicines it offers. Here, too, it’s best to listen to a single teacher and swear by every word he utters. Make it a principle to give words your allegiance!	1990
You then will enter by the one safe gate into the temple of certitude. STUDENT. But there must be ideas behind the words. MEPHISTOPHELES. That’s true, but do not fret too much about it,
since it’s precisely when ideas are lacking that some word will appear to save the situation. Words are perfect for waging controversies, with words you can construct entire systems, in words you can place perfect faith,	1995
and from a word no jot or tittle may be taken. STUDENT. Pardon my detaining you with so many questions, but I must trouble you still further. Would you be willing to provide me, too, with a few helpful words on medicine?	2000
Three years are a short time, alas! and yet the subject is so vast. If one could only get a pointer, he wouldn’t have to grope so in the dark. MEPHISTOPHELES (aside). I’ve had enough of a sober tone,	2005
it’s time to play the real devil again. (Aloud.) The essence of medicine’s easily grasped: you study nature, you study man, but in the end you let things take the course God wills.	2010
It’s pointless to waste time by being scientific— you learn only as much as you possibly can; but if you profit from your opportunities you’re a made man. You have a rather pleasing figure, too,	2015
and no doubt the assurance to go with it, so if you only have self-confidence, others will place their confidence in you. Above all, learn to handle women; their myriads of aches and pains,	2020
that never never cease, can all be cured if you know the right spot— and if your behavior is halfway discreet they all will be at your beck and call. A title’s needed first, to reassure them	2025
that you have greater skill than other men, and right away you’re welcome to investigate what someone else needs years to reconnoiter; you will know how to take a dainty pulse and, with a cautious ardent glance,	2030
to put your arms about her slender hips	2035
and see how tightly she is laced.
STUDENT. Now that’s more like it—and it’s practical!
MEPHISTOPHELES. All theories, dear friend, are gray;
the golden tree of life is green.
STUDENT. I’d swear I’m in some sort of daze.	2040
Perhaps you’ll let me bother you again,
to hear the rest of all your wisdom?
MEPHISTOPHELES. I’m always glad to be of service.
STUDENT. I cannot bear to take my leave
until you’ve written in my album.	2045
Grant me, I beg, that token of your favor!
MEPHISTOPHELES. With pleasure.
He writes, and returns the album.
STUDENT (reading).
Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum.
Closing the album reverently, the STUDENT bows and withdraws.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Follow the ancient saw, and my cousin the serpent,
and I warrant your likeness to God will some day perplex you.	2050
Enter FAUST.
FAUST. And now, where are we going?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Where you please.
Let’s first see ordinary life, the grand monde later;
you’ll find this course—don’t pay the registrar a fee—
both practical and entertaining!
FAUST. Yet as you see from my long beard	2055
I lack all nonchalance of manner.
I know that this experiment won’t work;
I never could adapt to people.
When I’m with them I feel so insignificant;
I’ll never be at ease at all.	2060
MEPHISTOPHELES. Everything will work out fine, my friend;
once you gain confidence, your manners will be easy.
FAUST. But how are we to start our travels?
Where have you horses or a coach and groom?
MEPHISTOPHELES. We’ll simply lay my cloak out flat;	2065
it will carry us through the air.
But just be sure, since there’s a certain risk,
that you don’t carry too much luggage.
Some heated air that I’ll concoct
will lift us off the ground with ease,	2070
and if we’re light enough, we’ll quickly be high up.
Congratulations on your new career!	[Exeunt.

AUERBACH’S WINE-CELLAR IN LEIPZIG

A lively drinking-party.

FROSCH. Why aren’t you drinking? Why is nobody laughing?
I’ll teach you not to make long faces!
Today you’re like wet straw,	2075
although you normally are scintillating.
BRANDER. It’s all your fault; you haven’t contributed
anything silly or piggishly bawdy.
FROSCH (emptying a glass of wine on BRANDER’S head).
There’s both for you!
BRANDER. You pig twice over!
FROSCH. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it!	2080
SIEBEL. Kick anyone out who starts to quarrel!
Now drink, let’s fill our lungs and sing a good loud round!
Wake up! Hey there! Halloo!
ALTMAYER. Ouch! he’s done me in!
Some cotton, quick! The fellow’s splitting my ears.
SIEBEL. It’s only when the ceiling echoes	2085
that you feel the full power of the bass.
FROSCH. That’s right, kick anyone out who doesn’t approve!
Trala, trala, trala!
ALTMAYER. Trala, trala, trala!
FROSCH. Our throats are now on pitch.
(Singing.) Our Holy Roman Empire, lads,	2090
what holds it still together?
BRANDER. A nasty song! For shame—political,
disgusting! Thank the Lord each time you wake
that the Empire is none of your affair.
I, at least, think myself better off	2095
not being emperor or chancellor.
But we must have our leader too,
so let’s elect ourselves a pope—
you know capacity is the main factor
for deciding who’ll be elevated.	2100
FROSCH (singing).
O nightingale, soar on above,
and bring ten thousand greetings to my love.
SIEBEL. No greetings to that love! I’ll have none of that!
FROSCH. Greetings, and kisses too! You’re not the one to stop me!
(Singing.) Draw the bolt, the night is clear.	2105
Draw the bolt, your lover’s here.
Shut the bolt, now dawn draws near.
SIEBEL. Go on and sing, and praise her all you want.
The time will come when I will have the laugh on you.
She made a fool of me, and you’ll get the same treatment. She ought to have a goblin for her lover! He could have fun with her at any crossroads, and some old goat, back from the witches’ sabbath, should bleat good night to her as he goes galloping by!	2110
A decent fellow of real flesh and blood is far too good for such a slut. Greetings! the only kind I’d bring her are those that break her window-panes! BRANDER (pounding on the table). Order, order! I demand order, sirs!	2115
You will admit I know what’s proper; we have some lovers sitting with us, and I must offer them a serenade befitting their condition. The song’s brand-new, so pay attention,	2120
and join me loudly for the refrain! (Singing.) A rat in a cellar had built him a nest and daily grew fatter and smoother; he lined his paunch with butter and lard, was as portly as Doctor Luther.	2125
The cook, she set some poison out; and then he felt as helpless as if— as if he’d fallen in love. CHORUS (with gusto). As if he’d fallen in love! BRANDER. He ran around, and in and out,	2130
and drank at every puddle, he gnawed and scratched, tore up the house, but still was in a fuddle; he leaped and leaped in frantic pain, but soon he knew it was in vain—	2135
as if he’d fallen in love. CHORUS. As if he’d fallen in love! BRANDER. In terror then and broad daylight he ran into the kitchen, flopped on the hearth and, sad to say,	2140
lay gasping, moaning, twitching. The poisoner now only laughed: that sounds to me like a last gasp— as if he’d fallen in love. CHORUS. As if he’d fallen in love!	2145
SIEBEL. The stupid fools find that amusing! I do not think it’s very nice to go and poison some poor rat. BRANDER. Are rats some special favorites of yours?	2150
ALTMAYER. He’s getting fat and growing bald!
His own misfortunes have made him soft-hearted,	2155
and what he sees in a bloated rat
is a spitting image of himself.
Enter FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES.
MEPHISTOPHELES. I must, to get us started right,
now introduce you to conviviality
and let you see how merry life can be.	2160
Here, for these people, every day’s a holiday.
Without much wit, but with great satisfaction,
they whirl in narrow, separate rounds
like kittens chasing their own tails.
And if they can’t complain of headache	2165
and still have credit with the landlord,
they’re pleased with life and free of cares.
BRANDER. Those two are travelers who’ve just arrived,
as you can see from their peculiar manner;
they haven’t been in town an hour.	2170
FROSCH. That’s it, of course! That’s why I’m all for Leipzig!
It is a smaller Paris and refines one’s manners.
SIEBEL. What do you think these strangers are?
FROSCH. Leave it to me! Before they’ve drunk a glass of wine
I’ll worm their secrets out of them	2175
as easily as you pull out a baby-tooth.
I think that they’re aristocrats,
since they look haughty and dissatisfied.
BRANDER. I’d wager that they’re mountebanks.
ALTMAYER. Perhaps!
FROSCH. Just watch how I bamboozle them!	2180
MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST).
Simple folk never sense the devil’s presence,
not even when his hands are on their throats.
FAUST. Our greetings, gentlemen!
SIEBEL. And ours to you, with thanks!
(In a low voice, looking at MEPHISTOPHELES sidewise.)
Why does the fellow limp with that one foot?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Do we have your permission to sit down with you?	2185
Instead of a good drink, since that’s not to be had,
we’ll have the pleasure of your company.
ALTMAYER. You seem a very fastidious man.
FROSCH. No doubt you got away from Rippach rather late?
Did you have supper first with Mr. Jack?	2190
MEPHISTOPHELES. We didn’t stop and call today;
on our last trip we had a word with him.
He had a lot to say about his cousins
and sends his best regards to every one of them.
He bows to FROSCH.
ALTMAYER (sotto voce). He got you there! He knows the game!
SIEBEL. The rascal’s sly!	2195
FROSCH. Just wait and see, I’ll catch him yet!
MEPHISTOPHELES. If I am not mistaken, we could hear
some well-trained voices doing choral songs?
I’m sure that with this vaulted ceiling
all singing has a fine, full resonance.	2200
FROSCH. Are you by any chance a virtuoso?
MEPHISTOPHELES. Oh no! I lack the strength, although I love to sing.
ALTMAYER. Give us a song!
MEPHISTOPHELES.As many as you may request!
SIEBEL. No old stuff, though! Some piece that’s new.
MEPHISTOPHELES. We’ve only just come back from Spain,	2205
that lovely land of wine and song.
(Singing.) A king there was they tell of
who had a great big flea –
FROSCH. Hear that! A flea! Did you catch what he said?
A flea’s nice company, I’m sure!	2210
MEPH. A king there was they tell of
who had a great big flea
and loved him no less dearly
than if a son were he.
And so he calls his tailor,	2215
and in the tailor goes:
Measure my squire for breeches
and for a suit of clothes!
BRANDER. Don’t you forget to have the tailor clearly told
to take his measurements precisely	2220
and, if he values his own neck,
to leave no wrinkles in the breeches!
MEPHISTOPHELES. In cloth of silk and velvet
the squire now was dressed,
had ribbons on his jacket,	2225
a cross upon his breast,
was minister directly
and wore a splendid star.
At court all his relations
were soon advanced quite far.	2230
Court life was then a torment
for ladies and their knights,
both queen and waiting-woman
had many stings and bites,
but no one dared to crack them	2235
or scratch the place that itched.
We’re free to crack and crush them
whenever there’s a twitch.
CHORUS (con gusto).  We’re free to crack and crush them
whenever there’s a twitch.	2240
FROSCH. Bravo! Bravo! That was fine!
SIEBEL. Down with all fleas, now and forever!
BRANDER. Use your nails well, don’t let any escape!
ALTMAYER. Hurrah for liberty! Hurrah for wine!
MEPHISTOPHELES. I’d gladly drink a glass to liberty	2245
if only your wines were a trifle better.
SIEBEL. We don’t want to hear that complaint again!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Did I not fear the landlord might object,
I would offer these worthy guests
some samples from our private cellar.	2250
SIEBEL. Just bring them on! I’ll be responsible.
FROSCH. If you have something good, we’ll sing your praises.
But don’t pour just a little in the glass;
if I’m to be a proper judge
my mouth must be well filled.	2255
ALTMAYER (sotto voce). I see they’re from the Rhineland.
MEPHISTOPHELES. An auger, please!
BRANDER. And what’s it for?
You can’t have left your casks outside?
ALTMAYER. Back there’s a basket with the landlord’s tools.
MEPHISTOPHELES (taking the auger).
(To FROSCH.) Tell me what wine you’d like to taste.	2260
FROSCH. How do you mean your question? Is there so great a choice?
MEPHISTOPHELES. You each can have whatever you prefer.
ALTMAYER (to FROSCH).
Ah, you’re licking your lips already, I see.
FROSCH. Well, then! if I can choose, I’ll have a good Rhine wine.
One’s native products are the best.	2265
MEPHISTOPHELES (boring a hole next to FROSCH in the edge of the table).
Get me some wax, so I’ll have stoppers ready.
ALTMAYER. Oh! it is only a magician’s trick.
MEPHISTOPHELES (to BRANDER). How about you?
BRANDER. I’ll have champagne,
and of the kind that’s really bubbly!
While Mephistopheles bores, one of the students makes wax stoppers and plugs the holes.
BRANDER. Imported goods can’t always be avoided—	2270
what’s best is often not home-grown.
Your proper German can’t abide those Frenchmen,
but he’s quite glad to drink their wines.
SIEBEL. (as MEPHISTOPHELES approaches his place).
To tell the truth, I don’t like wine too dry—
give me a glass of something good and sweet!	2275
MEPHISTOPHELES (boring). This tap will soon give you Tokay.
ALTMAYER. Come, sirs, admit what you are doing!
It’s plain to me you’re making fools of us.
MEPHISTOPHELES. Hardly that! With such worthy company
to do so would be just a bit too risky.	2280
Speak up! Don’t beat about the bush!
What kind of wine do you prefer?
ALTMAYER. Any will do! Don’t waste time asking!
The boring and plugging of the holes is now finished.
MEPHISTOPHELES (with fantastic gestures).
On the vine grapes grow,
on the he-goat, horns;	2285
wine is juice, vine is wood,
wooden tables give wine as good.
Nature’s secret is now revealed!
Faith provides a miracle!
Now draw the plugs and drink your fill!	2290
ALL (as they draw the stoppers and the several wines flow into their glasses). O lovely fountain, all for us!
MEPHISTOPHELES. But I must warn you—do not spill one drop!
They drink glass after glass.
ALL (singing). We are as happy as cannibals,
five hundred swine can’t beat us!
MEPHISTOPHELES. There’s freedom for you—see a happy people!	2295
FAUST. I wish we could go on our way.
MEPHISTOPHELES. First wait and see a demonstration
of marvelous animal spirits.
SIEBEL (drinking carelessly and spilling wine which turns to flame as it hits the floor). Help! fire! help! The flames of hell!
MEPHISTOPHELES (conjuring the flame).
Peace, friendly element, be still!	2300
(To SIEBEL.) That time it wasn’t much—a spark from purgatory.
SIEBEL. What do you mean? You wait! You’ll pay for this!
Do you know whom you’re dealing with?
FROSCH. Don’t try that trick a second time with us!
ALTMAYER. I think we might tell him to make himself scarce.	2305
SIEBEL. I say, sir, you are impudent
to practice your hocus-pocus here!
MEPHISTOPHELES. Be still, old wine-tun!
SIEBEL. Broomstick, you!
To injury you want to add your insults!
BRANDER. You wait! You’re asking for a beating!	2310
ALTMAYER (pulling a stopper, so that fire shoots out from the table at him). I’m burning! I’m on fire!
SIEBEL. It’s black magic!
Stab him! The fellow is outside the law!
They rush at MEPHISTOPHELES with drawn knives.
MEPHISTOPHELES (with gravity of tone and gesture).
Eye, see what’s not!
Charm, change the scene!
Stay here, but be there!	2315
Standing still, they look in amazement at each other.
ALTMAYER. Where am I? What a pretty country!
FROSCH. Do I see vineyards!
SIEBEL. And grapes everywhere!
BRANDER. Look underneath the leaves of this green arbor!
See the fine vine! See all the grapes!
He grabs SIEBEL’S nose; the others do the same with each other, raising their
knives.
MEPHISTOPHELES (as before).
Remove your blindfold from them, Error!	2320
And you! remember well the devil’s joke.
MEPHISTOPHELES disappears with FAUST; the revelers separate.
SIEBEL. What’s going on!
ALTMAYER. What’s this?
FROSCH. Was that your nose?
BRANDER (to SIEBEL). And here I’m holding yours right now!
ALTMAYER. I felt a shock that went all through me.
I can’t stand up, get me a chair!	2325
FROSCH. Just what did happen? Can you tell me?
SIEBEL. Where is that fellow? If I find him,
he won’t get out of here alive!
ALTMAYER. With my own eyes I saw him—riding on a keg
out through the tavern door. –	2330
Somehow my feet are as heavy as lead.
(Turning toward the table.)
I say, could there still be some wine?
SIEBEL. It was all make-believe—deception and illusion.
FROSCH. I really thought that I was drinking wine.
BRANDER. But did we ever see those grapes?	2335
ALTMAYER. And yet some people claim there are no miracles!