The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01

Ay, neighbor! So let matters stand for me!There they may scatter one another's brains,And wild confusion round them see—So here at home in quiet all remains!

OLD WOMAN (to the BURGHERS' DAUGHTERS)

Heyday! How smart! The fresh young blood!Who would not fall in love with you?Not quite so proud! 'Tis well and good!And what you wish, that I could help you to.

BURGHER'S DAUGHTER

Come, Agatha! I care not to be seenWalking in public with these witches. True,My future lover, last St. Andrew's E'en,In flesh and blood she brought before my view.

ANOTHER

And mine she show'd me also in the glass.A soldier's figure, with companions bold;I look around, I seek him as I pass—In vain, his form I nowhere can behold.

SOLDIERS

Fortress with turretsAnd walls high in air,Damsel disdainful,Haughty and fair—These be my prey!Bold is the venture,Costly the pay!Hark, how the trumpetThither doth call usWhere either pleasureOr death may befall us!Hail to the tumult!Life's in the field!Damsel and fortressTo us must yield.Bold is the venture,Costly the pay!Gaily the soldierMarches away.

FAUST and WAGNER

FAUST

Loosed from their fetters are streams and rillsThrough the gracious spring-tide's all-quickening glow;Hope's budding joy in the vale doth blow;Old Winter back to the savage hillsWithdraweth his force, decrepid now.Thence only impotent icy grainsScatters he as he wings his flight,Striping with sleet the verdant plains;But the sun endureth no trace of white;Everywhere growth and movement are rife,All things investing with hues of lifeThough flowers are lacking, varied of dye,Their colors the motley throng supply.Turn thee around, and, from this height,Back to the town direct thy sight.Forth from the hollow, gloomy gate,Stream forth the masses, in bright array.Gladly seek they the sun today;The Lord's Resurrection they celebrate:For they themselves have risen, with joy,From tenement sordid, from cheerless room,From bonds of toil, from care and annoy,From gable and roof's o'erhanging gloom,From crowded alley and narrow street,And from the churches' awe-breathing nightAll now have come forth into the light.Look, only look, on nimble feet,Through garden and field how spread the throng,How o'er the river's ample sheetMany a gay wherry glides along;And see, deep sinking in the tide,Pushes the last boat now away.E'en from yon far hill's path-worn side,Flash the bright hues of garments gay.Hark! Sounds of village mirth arise;This is the people's paradise.Both great and small send up a cheer;Here am I man, I feel it here.

WAGNER

Sir Doctor, in a walk with youThere's honor and instruction too;Yet here alone I care not to resort,Because I coarseness hate of every sort.This fiddling, shouting, skittling, I detest;I hate the tumult of the vulgar throng;They roar as by the evil one possess'd,And call it pleasure, call it song.

PEASANTS (under the linden-tree)

Dance and Sing.

  The shepherd for the dance was dress'd,  With ribbon, wreath, and colored vest,  A gallant show displaying.  And round about the linden-tree,  They footed it right merrily.   Juchhe! Juchhe!   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!  So fiddle-bow was braying.  Our swain amidst the circle press'd,  He push'd a maiden trimly dress'd,  And jogg'd her with his elbow;  The buxom damsel turn'd her head,  "Now that's a stupid trick!" she said,   Juchhe! Juchhe!   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!  Don't be so rude, good fellow!  Swift in the circle they advanced,  They danced to right, to left they danced,  And all the skirts were swinging.  And they grew red, and they grew warm,  Panting, they rested arm in arm,   Juchhe! Juchhe!   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!  To hip their elbow bringing.  Don't make so free! How many a maid  Has been betroth'd and then betray'd;  And has repented after!  Yet still he flatter'd her aside,  And from the linden, far and wide,   Juchhe! Juchhe!   Juchheisa! Heisa! He!  Rang fiddle-bow and laughter.

OLD PEASANT

Doctor, 'tis really kind of you,To condescend to come this way,A highly learned man like you,To join our mirthful throng today.Our fairest cup I offer you,Which we with sparkling drink have crown'd,And pledging you, I pray aloud,That every drop within its round,While it your present thirst allays,May swell the number of your days.

FAUST

I take the cup you kindly reach, Thanks and prosperity to each! [The crowd gather round in a circle.]

OLD PEASANT

Ay, truly! 'tis well done, that youOur festive meeting thus attend;You, who in evil days of yore,So often show'd yourself our friend!Full many a one stands living here,Who from the fever's deadly blastYour father rescu'd, when his skillThe fatal sickness stay'd at last.A young man then, each house you sought,Where reign'd the mortal pestilence.Corpse after corpse was carried forth,But still unscath'd you issued thence.Sore then your trials and severe;The Helper yonder aids the helper here.

ALL

Heaven bless the trusty friend, and longTo help the poor his life prolong!

FAUST

To Him above in homage bend, Who prompts the helper and Who help doth send. [He proceeds with WAGNER.]

WAGNER

What feelings, great man, must thy breast inspire,At homage paid thee by this crowd! Thrice blestWho from the gifts by him possessedSuch benefit can draw! The sireThee to his boy with reverence shows,They press around, inquire, advance,Hush'd is the fiddle, check'd the dance.Where thou dost pass they stand in rows,And each aloft his bonnet throws,But little fails and they to thee,As though the Host came by, would bend the knee.

FAUST

A few steps further, up to yonder stone!Here rest we from our walk. In times long past,Absorb'd in thought, here oft I sat alone,And disciplin'd myself with prayer and fast.Then rich in hope, with faith sincere,With sighs, and hands in anguish press'd,The end of that sore plague, with many a tear,From heaven's dread Lord, I sought to wrest.The crowd's applause assumes a scornful tone.Oh, could'st thou in my inner being readHow little either sire or sonOf such renown deserves the meed!My sire, of good repute, and sombre mood,O'er nature's powers and every mystic zone,With honest zeal, but methods of his own,With toil fantastic loved to brood;His time in dark alchemic cell,With brother-adepts he would spend,And there antagonists compelThrough numberless receipts to blend.A ruddy lion there, a suitor bold,In tepid bath was with the lily wed.Thence both, while open flames around them roll'd,Were tortur'd to another bridal bed.Was then the youthful queen descriedWith varied colors in the flask—This was our medicine; the patients died;"Who were restored?" none cared to ask.With our infernal mixture thus, ere long.These hills and peaceful vales amongWe rag'd more fiercely than the pest;Myself the deadly poison did to thousands give;They pined away, I yet must liveTo hear the reckless murderers blest.

WAGNER

Why let this thought your soul o'ercast?Can man do more than with nice skill,With firm and conscientious will,Practise the art transmitted from the past?If thou thy sire dost honor in thy youth,His lore thou gladly wilt receive;In manhood, dost thou spread the bounds of truth,Then may thy son a higher goal achieve.

FAUST

How blest, in whom the fond desireFrom error's sea to rise, hope still renews!What a man knows not, that he doth require,And what he knoweth, that he cannot use.But let not moody thoughts their shadow throwO'er the calm beauty of this hour serene!In the rich sunset see how brightly glowYon cottage homes, girt round with verdant green!Slow sinks the orb, the day is now no more;Yonder he hastens to diffuse new life.Oh for a pinion from the earth to soar,And after, ever after him to strive!Then should I see the world below,Bathed in the deathless evening-beams,The vales reposing, every height a-glow,The silver brooklets meeting golden streams.The savage mountain, with its cavern'd side,Bars not my godlike progress. Lo, the ocean,Its warm bays heaving with a tranquil motion,To my rapt vision opes its ample tide!But now at length the god appears to sinkA new-born impulse wings my flight,Onward I press, his quenchless light to drink,The day before me, and behind the night,The pathless waves beneath, and over me the skies.Fair dream, it vanish'd with the parting day!Alas! that when on spirit-wing we rise,No wing material lifts our mortal clay.But 'tis our inborn impulse, deep and strong,Upwards and onwards still to urge our flight,When far above us pours its thrilling songThe sky-lark, lost in azure light;When on extended wing amainO'er pine-crown'd height the eagle soars;And over moor and lake, the craneStill striveth toward its native shores.

WAGNER

To strange conceits oft I myself must own,But impulse such as this I ne'er have knownNor woods, nor fields, can long our thoughts engage;Their wings I envy not the feather'd kind;Far otherwise the pleasures of the mindBear us from book to book, from page to page IThen winter nights grow cheerful; keen delightWarms every limb; and ah! when we unrollSome old and precious parchment, at the sightAll heaven itself descends upon the soul.

FAUST

Thy heart by one sole impulse is possess'd;Unconscious of the other still remain!Two souls, alas! are lodg'd within my breast,Which struggle there for undivided reignOne to the world, with obstinate desire,And closely-cleaving organs, still adheres;Above the mist, the other doth aspire,With sacred vehemence, to purer spheres.Oh, are there spirits in the airWho float 'twixt heaven and earth dominion wielding,Stoop hither from your golden atmosphere,Lead me to scenes, new life and fuller yielding!A magic mantle did I but possess,Abroad to waft me as on viewless wings,I'd prize it far beyond the costliest dress,Nor would I change it for the robe of kings.

WAGNER

Call not the spirits who on mischief wait!Their troop familiar, streaming through the air,From every quarter threaten man's estate,And danger in a thousand forms prepare!They drive impetuous from the frozen north,With fangs sharp-piercing, and keen arrowy tongues;From the ungenial east they issue forth,And prey, with parching breath, upon thy lungs;If, waft'd on the desert's flaming wing,They from the south heap fire upon the brain,Refreshment from the west at first they bring,Anon to drown thyself and field and plain.In wait for mischief, they are prompt to hear;With guileful purpose our behests obey;Like ministers of grace they oft appear,And lisp like angels, to betray.But let us hence! Gray eve doth all things blend,The air grows chill, the mists descend!'Tis in the evening first our home we prize—Why stand you thus, and gaze with wondering eyes?What in the gloom thus moves you?

FAUST

                                  Yon black houndSee 'st thou, through corn and stubble scampering round?

WAGNER

I've mark'd him long, naught strange in him I see!

FAUST

Note him! What takest thou the brute to be?

WAGNER

But for a poodle, whom his instinct servesHis master's track to find once more.

FAUST

Dost mark how round us, with wide spiral curves,He wheels, each circle closer than before?And, if I err not, he appears to meA line of 'fire upon his track to leave.

WAGNER

Naught but a poodle black of hue I see;'Tis some illusion doth your sight deceive.

FAUST

Methinks a magic coil our feet around,He for a future snare doth lightly spread.

WAGNER

Around us as in doubt I see him shyly bound,Since he two strangers seeth in his master's stead.

FAUST

The circle narrows, he's already near!

WAGNER

A dog dost see, no spectre have we here;He growls, doubts, lays him on his belly too,And wags his tail-as dogs are wont to do.

FAUST

Come hither, Sirrah! join our company!

WAGNER

A very poodle, he appears to be!Thou standest still, for thee he'll wait;Thou speak'st to him, he fawns upon thee straight;Aught thou mayst lose, again he'll bring,And for thy stick will into water spring.

FAUST

Thou'rt right indeed; no traces now I seeWhatever of a spirit's agency,'Tis training—nothing more.

WAGNER

                   A dog well taughtE'en by the wisest of us may be sought.Ay, to your favor he's entitled too,Apt scholar of the students, 'tis his due!

[They enter the gate of the town.]

STUDY

FAUST (entering with, the poodle)

Now field and meadow I've forsaken;O'er them deep night her veil doth draw;In us the better soul doth waken,With feelings of foreboding awe.All lawless promptings, deeds unholy,Now slumber, and all wild desires;The love of man doth sway us wholly,And love to God the soul inspires.Peace, poodle, peace! Scamper not thus; obey me!Why at the threshold snuffest thou so?Behind the stove now quietly lay thee,My softest cushion to thee I'll throw.As thou, without, didst please and amuse me,Running and frisking about on the hill,So tendance now I will not refuse thee;A welcome guest, if thou'lt be still.Ah! when the friendly taper gloweth,Once more within our narrow cell,Then in the heart itself that knoweth,A light the darkness doth dispel.Reason her voice resumes; returnethHope's gracious bloom, with promise rife;For streams of life the spirit yearneth,Ah! for the very fount of life.Poodle, snarl not! with the tone that arises,Hallow'd and peaceful, my soul within,Accords not thy growl, thy bestial din.We find it not strange, that man despisesWhat he conceives not;That he the good and fair misprizes—Finding them often beyond his ken;Will the dog snarl at them like men?But ah! Despite my will, it stands confessed;Contentment welleth up no longer in my breast.Yet wherefore must the stream, alas, so soon be dry,That we once more athirst should lie?Full oft this sad experience hath been mine;Nathless the want admits of compensation;For things above the earth we learn to pine,Our spirits yearn for revelation,Which nowhere burns with purer beauty blent,Than here in the New Testament.To ope the ancient text an impulse strongImpels me, and its sacred lore,With honest purpose to explore,And render into my loved German tongue.

[He opens a volume and applies himself to it.]

'Tis writ, "In the beginning was the Word!"I pause, perplex'd! Who now will help afford?I cannot the mere Word so highly prize;I must translate it otherwise,If by the spirit guided as I read."In the beginning was the Sense!" Take heed,The import of this primal sentence weigh,Lest thy too hasty pen be led astray!Is force creative then of Sense the dower?"In the beginning was the Power!"Thus should it stand: yet, while the line I trace,A something warns me, once more to efface.The spirit aids! from anxious scruples freed,I write, "In the beginning was the Deed!"Am I with thee my room to share,Poodle, thy barking now forbear,Forbear thy howling!Comrade so noisy, ever growling,I cannot suffer here to dwell.One or the other, mark me well,Forthwith must leave the cell.I'm loath the guest-right to withhold;The door's ajar, the passage clear;But what must now mine eyes behold!Are nature's laws suspended here?Real is it, or a phantom show?In length and breadth how doth my poodle grow!He lifts himself with threat'ning mien,In likeness of a dog no longer seen!What spectre have I harbor'd thus!Huge as a hippopotamus,With fiery eye, terrific tooth!Ah! now I know thee, sure enough!For such a base, half-hellish brood,The key of Solomon is good.

SPIRITS (without)

Captur'd there within is one!Stay without and follow none!Like a fox in iron snare,Hell's old lynx is quaking there, But take heed'!Hover round, above, below, To and fro,Then from durance is he freed!Can ye aid him, spirits all,Leave him not in mortal thrall!Many a time and oft hath heServed us, when at liberty.

FAUST

The monster to confront, at first,The spell of Four must be rehears'd; Salamander shall kindle, Writhe nymph of the wave, In air sylph shall dwindle, And Kobold shall slave.Who doth ignoreThe primal Four,Nor knows arightTheir use and might,O'er spirits will heNe'er master be! Vanish in the fiery glow, Salamander! Rushingly together flow, Undine! Shimmer in the meteor's gleam, Sylphide! Hither bring thine homely aid, Incubus! Incubus! Step forth! I do adjure thee thus!None of the FourLurks in the beast;He grins at me, untroubled as before;I have not hurt him in the least.A spell of fearThou now shalt hear. Art thou, comrade fell, Fugitive from Hell? See then this sign, Before which incline The murky troops of Hell!With bristling hair now doth the creature swell. Canst thou, reprobate, Read the uncreate, Unspeakable, diffused Throughout the heavenly sphere, Shamefully abused, Transpierced with nail and spear!Behind the stove, tam'd by my spells,Like an elephant he swells;Wholly now he fills the room,He into mist will melt away.Ascend not to the ceiling! Come,Thyself at the master's feet now lay!Thou seest that mine is no idle threat.With holy fire I will scorch thee yet!Wait not the mightThat lies in the triple-glowing light!Wait not the mightOf all my arts in fullest measure!

MEPHISTOPHELES (as the mist sinks, comes forward from behind the stove, in the dress of a traveling scholar)

Why all this uproar? What's the master's pleasure?

FAUST

This then the kernel of the brute!A traveling scholar? Why I needs must smile.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Your learned reverence humbly I salute!You've made me swelter in a pretty style.

FAUST

Thy name?

MEPHISTOPHELES

         The question trifling seems from one,Who it appears the Word doth rate so low;Who, undeluded by mere outward show,To Being's depths would penetrate alone.

FAUST

With gentlemen like you indeedThe inward essence from the name we read,As all too plainly it doth appear,When Beelzebub, Destroyer, Liar, meets the ear.Who then art thou?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Part of that power which still Produceth good, whilst ever scheming ill.

FAUST

What hidden mystery in this riddle lies?

MEPHISTOPHELES

The spirit I, which evermore denies!And justly; for whate'er to light is broughtDeserves again to be reduced to naught;Then better 'twere that naught should be.Thus all the elements which yeDestruction, Sin, or briefly, Evil, name,As my peculiar element I claim.

FAUST

Thou nam'st thyself a part, and yet a whole I see.

MEPHISTOPHELES

The modest truth I speak to thee.Though folly's microcosm, man, it seems,Himself to be a perfect whole esteems:Part of the part am I, which at the first was all,A part of darkness, which gave birth to light—Proud light, who now his mother would enthrall,Contesting space and ancient rank with night.Yet he succeedeth not, for struggle as he will,To forms material he adhereth still;From them he streameth, them he maketh fair,And still the progress of his beams they check;And so, I trust, when comes the final wreck,Light will, ere long, the doom of matter share.

FAUST

Thy worthy avocation now I guess!Wholesale annihilation won't prevail,So thou'rt beginning on a smaller scale.

MEPHISTOPHELES

And, to say truth, as yet with small success.Oppos'd to naught, this clumsy world,The something—it subsisteth still;Not yet is it to ruin hurl'd,Despite the efforts of my will.Tempests and earthquakes, fire and flood, I've tried;Yet land and ocean still unchang'd abide!And then of humankind and beasts, the accursed brood,—Neither o'er them can I extend my sway.What countless myriads have I swept away!Yet ever circulates the fresh young blood.It is enough to drive me to despair!As in the earth, in water, and in air,A thousand germs burst forth spontaneously;In moisture, drought, heat, cold, they still appear!Had I not flame selected as my sphere,Nothing apart had been reserved for me.

FAUST

So thou with thy cold devil's fist,Still clench'd in malice impotent,Dost the creative power resist,The active, the beneficent!Henceforth some other task essay,Of Chaos thou the wondrous son!

MEPHISTOPHELES

We will consider what you say,And talk about it more anon!For this time have I leave to go?

FAUST

Why thou shouldst ask, I cannot see.Since thee I now have learned to know,At thy good pleasure, visit me.Here is the window, here the door,The chimney, too, may serve thy need.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I must confess, my stepping o'erThy threshold a slight hindrance doth impede;The wizard-foot doth me retain.

FAUST

The pentagram thy peace doth martTo me, thou son of hell, explain,How camest thou in, if this thine exit bar?Could such a spirit aught ensnare?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Observe it well, it is not drawn with care;One of the angles, that which points without,Is, as thou seest, not quite closed.

FAUST

Chance hath the matter happily dispos'd!So thou my captive art? No doubt!By accident thou thus art caught!

MEPHISTOPHELES

In sprang the dog, indeed, observing naught;Things now assume another shape,The devil's in the house and can't escape.

FAUST

Why through the window not withdraw?

MEPHISTOPHELES

For ghosts and for the devil 'tis a law,Where they stole in, there they must forth. We're freeThe first to choose; as to the second, slaves are we.

FAUST

E'en hell hath its peculiar laws, I see!I'm glad of that! a pact may then be made,The which you gentlemen will surely keep?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Whate'er therein is promised thou shalt reap,No tittle shall remain unpaid.But such arrangements time require;We'll speak of them when next we meet;Most earnestly I now entreat,This once permission to retire.

FAUST

Another moment prithee here remain,Me with some happy word to pleasure.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Now let me go! Ere long I'll come again;Then thou may'st question at thy leisure.

FAUST

'Twas not my purpose thee to lime;The snare hast entered of thine own free will:Let him who holds the devil, hold him still!So soon he'll catch him not a second time.

MEPHISTOPHELES

If it so please thee, I'm at thy command;Only on this condition, understand;That worthily thy leisure to beguile,I here may exercise my arts awhile.

FAUST

Thou'rt free to do so! Gladly I'll attend;But be thine art a pleasant one!

MEPHISTOPHELES

 My friend,This hour enjoyment more intenseShall captivate each ravish'd sense,Than thou could'st compass in the boundOf the whole year's unvarying round;And what the dainty spirits sing,The lovely images they bring,Are no fantastic sorcery.Rich odors shall regale your smell,On choicest sweets your palate dwell,Your feelings thrill with ecstasy.No preparation do we need,Here we together are. Proceed.

SPIRITS

 Hence overshadowing gloom, Vanish from sight! O'er us thine azure dome, Bend, beauteous light! Dark clouds that o'er us spread, Melt in thin air! Stars, your soft radiance shed, Tender and fair! Girt with celestial might, Winging their airy flight, Spirits are thronging. Follows their forms of light Infinite longing! Flutter their vestures bright O'er field and grove! Where in their leafy bower Lovers the livelong hour Vow deathless love. Soft bloometh bud and bower! Bloometh the grove! Grapes from the spreading vine Crown the full measure; Fountains of foaming wine Gush from the pressure. Still where the currents wind, Gems brightly gleam; Leaving the hills behind On rolls the stream; Now into ample seas, Spreadeth the flood— Laving the sunny leas, Mantled with wood. Rapture the feather'd throng, Gaily careering, Sip as they float along; Sunward they're steering; On toward the isles of light Winging their way, That on the waters bright Dancingly play. Hark to the choral strain, Joyfully ringing! While on the grassy plain Dancers are springing; Climbing the steep hill's side, Skimming the glassy tide, Wander they there; Others on pinions wide Wing the blue air; All lifeward tending, upward still wending, Toward yonder stars that gleam, Far, far above; Stars from whose tender beam Rains blissful love.

MEPHISTOPHELES