AN ANALYSIS
OF
GOETHE'S TRAGEDY
OF
FAUST.

INTRODUCTION.

THE Faust of Goethe is perhaps the most original work of German poesy, and one for which his contemporaries are greatly indebted to him. Would you warn the young man who enters upon society, freed from the controul of the school or the superintendance of the tutor--- would you point out to him all the dangers to which he will be exposed in the world---you need only give him Goethe's Faust, and desire him to read and reflect. The aged, grown grey in years, instead of detailing the results of their experience, will point to the book and say, it comprises all these things. It displays the whole store, discovers the whole abyss of the human heart: it unfolds its most secret recesses---its enjoyments---its cloyed surfeits---and its frivolous wiles, with their direful consequences. As a moral instructor, it ranks with the Cyropaedia of Xenophon, and the Telemachus of Fenelon.

Faust does not represent man as at the time of the Persian prince; not man, as the poet's fancy formed him, for the instruction of a King of the Bourbon race, nor yet the crafty courtier, or worldling, taught by Lord Chesterfield's Letters, deliberately to weigh all his actions between pleasure in one scale, and punishment in the other. Faust represents man as he is, in every age, clime, and country;

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the creature which is a riddle to itself, an enigma, the solution of
which has baffled alike the ingenuity of ancient and modern philoso-
phers. This creature "MAN," youth may learn justly to appreciate
from Goethe's work, and to separate with just discrimination those
parts of his exuberant substance, by the nice line which divides good
and evil; and thus form within his breast a Temple of the Deity.

Let youth detect the Demon within himself, in order to yield to
GOD the sway over his heart, for it appears to us, that the easiest clue
to the moral part of this didactic fiction is, to consider Faust and
Mephistopheles as one person, represented symbolically, only in a
two-fold shape.

With respect to the Plates, the artist appears to have acted the part
of an ingenious translator, so as it were to renew the work itself, by
most intimately adapting his Plates to the very genius of the author.
Truth is conspicuous throughout, under all possible forms of
beauty, and though fancy may play (in some Plates) in extravagant
variety, correctness and propriety are preserved. The scenes are
so well selected, that the Plates will afford a connected view of the
whole drama. The exact repetition of the same details of costume
in every identical spot, for instance in Faust's study, and in Martha,
and Margaret's chambers, makes us feel at home with them, and
traces a sort of biography of the inmates; an effect similar to that
which we find (even in our days) in the sitting-rooms of honest citizens
in small towns of the German empire where the people are Roman
Catholics. At Mother Martha's you see old-fashioned rubbish; in
Margaret's chamber, cleanliness and female neatness are conspicuous
in flower-pots and the spinning-wheel. Forty years ago, a doctor
or chemist's study at Isny, Überkingen, or some other towns in that
neighbourhood, very much resembled Faust's chamber; even Käst-
ner's study was like it. The witch's kitchen and the scenery and
figures of the Blocksberg, astonish us by their variety. In their

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monstrous extravagancies they will only excite a pleasant smile, not
disgust. The simple means by which the most marked effect is pro-
duced, exhibits a striking coincidence of imagination with the poet
and artist. Perhaps our fancy outstrips the artist's intention, when
we conceive, for instance, the rock in Plate 21, on the left hand, to
resemble a veiled woman.

The figures are drawn with similar propriety and expression.
Margaret passes through the different gradations of reserve, maiden
coyness, fondness, perplexity, yielding, ominous grief, wild repent-
ance and utter despair. Faust changes from a monastic doctor to a
gay knight; and his looks, gradually strained by the passions to the
tension of despair, are conspicuous in the last Plate. Mephistopheles
never appears as a bugbear, yet so much of a devil that we can
always see how much the mask of decency struggles to fall off. The
lappels of his cap are continually striving to change into horns; his
goatish physiognomy would fain assume the features of a demon, but
is never suffered: this character, however, gradually develops itself
in his looks, as the scenes become more horrible. The true nature
of the disgusting creature appears more and more as the scene mad-
dens. At length, in the last Plate, his malice bursts forth and marks
the furious destroyer.

We shall now proceed to the Analysis of the Book itself, without
which the Plates would only stimulate without gratifying the appe-
tite, and as the chief object of the Translator has been to preserve
unimpaired, and to render as faithfully as possible the conceptions of
the Author, it is hoped that any little inaccuracies of style will meet
with the reader's kind indulgence.

A PRELUDE

ON THE STAGE.

Enter.---*The Manager, the Dramatic Poet, and the Clown.*

The manager desires the poet to give him a medley full of action, with which the poet reluctantly complies, having more serious views; but the clown convinces him at last that all, even life itself, is a continual medley of vanity and folly. The manager requests the poet not to spare his scenery and machines, of which he has great store.

PROLOGUE.

*The Scene is in Heaven.*

*Mephistopheles* appears before the Deity, who is surrounded by angels and archangels praising his works---he complains that men torment themselves, and that they only use their reason to degrade themselves lower than the brute. He is asked whether he has nothing further to say? if he always comes to accuse? and if nothing can please him on earth? he answers, that he finds things are there, as ever, very wretched; he even pities man in his days of sorrow, and would fain desist from plaguing the wretched creature.---(Plate I. refers to this point.)

*Mephistopheles* then asks permission to tempt Faust whilst he lives on earth, which the Deity permits him to do, with this remark,---though he now serves me with distraction, I shall soon lead him to clearness : the gardener knows that when the young tree shoots, blossoms and fruit will sprout from it in a few years.

THE TRAGEDY.

FIRST PART.

*The Scene,—Night.* FAUST is discovered in a narrow, gothic,
high-vaulted chamber, restless in his arm-chair, at a desk.

Faust laments that he has studied philosophy, law, medicine, and
theology, with eager application; and observes, that though they call
him Doctor he is now but as wise as before; that he has been leading
his disciples astray these ten years, and is now convinced that all hu-
man knowledge is vain. Though he is beyond all scruples and doubts,
and fears neither hell nor the devil, he has lost all enjoyment, and is
left in extreme penury. In this state of mind he devotes himself to
magic, desirous to converse with spirits, that he may learn what holds
the universe together, and pry into the inmost energies of nature. He
wishes he could walk on the tops of the highest mountains in the light
of the full moon, and hover in the company of spirits, round rocks
and in caverns. He loathes his gloomy chamber, which is dimly
lighted through stained glass, encumbered with books, a prey to dust
and worms, and crouded with glasses, vials, boxes, instruments,
and old-fashioned furniture. Instead of living nature, in which God
created man, he is surrounded with smoke and dust, with skeletons
and dead bones. He resolves to go into the open field with magical
works, in the hand-writing of Nostradamus, there to trace the course
of the stars, and to discover how one spirit converses with another.
In vain does dry meditation expound the sacred characters; he is
convinced that spirits are near him; he calls upon them to answer
him, if they hear.

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On opening the book, he views the character of the macrocosm with delight, desirous of unfolding the powers of nature, whose effects he beholds in those characters. He reads: "The world of spirits is not closed, thy own senses are closed, thy heart is dead. Go, discipline, bathe your earthy breast in the redness of the morning!"

Turning over a leaf he beholds the character of the spirit of the earth, and continues his soliloquy: "How very differently I feel affected by this character. Thou, spirit of the earth, art most closely allied to me; I feel my powers raised; I glow as with fresh wine; I feel courage to venture into the world, to bear the woes, the fortunes of the earth, to be tossed in the storm, yet not to tremble in the wreck. A cloud collects above me—the moon hides her light—the lamp grows dim!—the smoke ascends!—red rays of light flash about my head—a breath of air waves down from the arched vault and seizes me with tremor! I feel thou dost hover about me, desired spirit. Show thyself! Ah! how my heart beats! How all my senses ferment with sensations quite new! I feel all my heart yielded up to thee! Thou must! thou must! and though it should cost me my life!" (He seizes the book, and mysteriously pronounces the character of the spirit. A red flame ascends; the spirit appears in the flame.)

*Spirit.* Who calls me?

*Faust.* (turning away his face.) Terrible vision!

The SPIRIT reproves FAUST for feeling so suddenly dismayed, after having powerfully attracted him, and goes on to tell Faust, that he is a spirit ever active, in life, in actions, in birth, in death; a sea continually agitated by successive motion, a glow of life; thus he works the rustling loom of time, and weaves the living garment of the Deity.

*Faust* now feels himself nearly related to the Spirit, who retorts, "Thou resemblest the spirit whom thou dost comprehend, but not to me!" and disappears.

*Faust* (*with a sudden shivering*) " Not to thee? To whom then? I,
the image of the Deity! and not even resemble thee!"

His *Famulus*, or Attendant, knocks. *Faust* laments that he comes to
interrupt his sublime visions.

Enter *Wagner* in a night-gown, and night-cap, bearing a lamp. *Faust* turns away his face in disgust.

*Wagner*. " Excuse me. I heard you declaiming; probably you were reading some Greek tragedy? I should like to learn something of this art, which is so effectual now-a-days. I have frequently been told in commendation of it, that an actor from the stage might teach a parson."

*Faust*. " Yes, if the parson be a stage-actor, as it will happen at times."

*Wagner*. " Penned up in our study, and scarcely seeing the world on a holiday, and then as through a perspective glass, and at a distance, how can we lead it by persuasive eloquence?"

*Faust*. " If you do not feel it you will never attain it, except it spring from your own soul, and with original energy draw the hearts of all your hearers; but you will never create a heart to join your's unless it proceeds from your own. Seek only honest gain. Be not a fool, attracting notice with the bells. Reason, like common sense, propounds itself without art. Pompous words, curled with the flourishes of human oratory, are unrefreshing, like foggy winds rustling through the dry leaves in autumn."

*Wagner*. " Art is long, and our life is short! How difficult is it to attain the means, by which we may ascend to the sources! And before we get half way, poor creatures! we may die."

*Faust*. " And is parchment the holy well, one draught of which quenches thirst for ever? You gain no refreshment, unless it springs from your own soul."

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*Wagner.* " But it is very pleasing to seize the spirit of the times,
to see how wise men thought before us, and how gloriously far we
have got."

*Faust.* "O, yes; as far as the stars! What you call the spirit of the times, is in fact men's own spirit, in which the times are reflected as in a mirror. A wretched sight---a tub of sweepings and a lumber-room, and at most some grand action of state, with excellent pragmatical maxims, fit for the mouth of puppets at a fair. But the night is far spent, we must break off our discourse."

*Wagner* departs reluctantly, after he has requested *Faust* to allow him
some further conversation on the morrow (Easter Sunday).

*Faust* (alone) proceeds in his former strain of discontent, till he
espies a vial of poison, which he takes down from the shelf, and
hails it as the means to raise him to the etherial regions, to a new
life of pure activity and to higher spheres as a man, no longer a
worm confined to the earth.---*He puts the vial to his lips.*

*Ringing of bells and singing in chorus, behind the scenes.*

*Chorus of Angels.*

" Christ is risen !
Joy to mortals
Who were laden
With destructive and
Hereditary faults."

*Faust.* " What deep sounds, what clear notes, wrest the vial from
my lips? Do ye, tinkling bells, already announce the first hour of
the celebration of Easter? Does the choir sing that consoling hymn;
that hymn which once resounded from the lips of angels at the dark
grave, the pledge of a new covenant?"

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A Beggar, singing, addresses the men and women passing, and
begs alms.

Two other Citizens, talking of the war in Turkey.

*An Old Woman* speaks to the citizen's daughters, admiring their
dress, and tells them, she could procure what they desire.

*A Citizen's Daughter* says to another, “Agatha, let us go! I take care not to walk with such witches; though she has shewn me my future lover on St. Andrew's eve.”

*The other* replies, “that she was shewn her's in a chrystal, like
a soldier, accompanied by several others, but has never yet been able
to meet with him.”

*Soldiers* talking of sieges and women.

Enter Faust and Wagner.

*Countrymen* under a tree, singing and dancing.

*An old Countryman* addresses Faust, commending the learned doctor
for deigning to come amongst them, drinks to him, and offers the
can to Faust, who accepts it and drinks to the health of the com-
pany, who draw round him, and drink to the health of the doctor,
who visited and cured the sick along with his late father.

*Faust* walks on with *Wagner*, to a stone, where they intend to rest
themselves. “On this stone,” says Faust, “I used frequently to sit
thoughtful and alone, rich in hope, firm in faith, praying and fasting.
Now the applause of the crowd sounds to me like scorn. Neither
myself nor my father deserve their praise. He was an honest man,
an alchymist, and prepared medicines, the patients died, and nobody
inquired who recovered.

“Happy is the man who has a ray of hope left, to emerge from this
ocean of error! What we know not, is the very thing we need, and
what we know, we cannot use. But let us not waste this hour in
melancholy! See, how the evening-sun gilds the cottages, surrounded

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with verdure. It hastens away and promotes new life. Oh! had I
wings to follow him and view the world beneath my feet!—" But,
alas! corporeal wings cannot join those of the spirit."

*Wagner* prefers books and study.

*Faust.* " You are conscious of one instinct only. Oh! may you never be sensible of the other! In my breast, alas! reside two souls. The one attaches itself to the world with riveting organs; the other forcibly raises itself from the dust to higher regions. Oh! if there be spirits in the air, which hover through the space, and rule between earth and heaven, descend and bear me away to a new varied life! Oh, had I but a magic mantle to carry me to distant countries, I would not exchange it for the royal purple!"

*Wagner.* " Do not call down that host of spirits, who fill the atmosphere like a stream, and prepare a thousand dangers for man, from all quarters. From the North they advance with tongues pointed like a dart; from the East they come drying-up, and feed on your lungs: when the South sends them from the desert, heat and fire crowd on your head: the West brings a swarm, which first refreshes, and then drowns you and the field with a flood. They are ready to hear and to obey; their pleasure is to deceive and hurt us.—Let us go home; the dusk of the evening advances. Why do you stand and look astonished? What ails you? (Plate II.)

*Faust.* " See you yon black dog scouring over sowed fields and stubble?"

*Wagner.* " I saw him long since; it appeared of no consequence."

*Faust.* " Consider him well! What do you take him for?"

*Wagner.* " For a poodle, who in his own way endeavours to trace his master."

*Faust.* " Do you mind how he hunts about us, approaching in a spiral line, and if I mistake not, fiery currents issue from his paws like trains."

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Wagner. " I see nothing but a black poodle-dog ; your eyes may
deceive you."

*Faust.* " To me it appears that he draws magic snares round our feet. The circle grows narrow; he is near."

Wagner. " You see it is a dog, and no spectre. He snarls and
doubts, wags his tail, just as other dogs do."

Faust. " Join our company ! Come hither !"

Wagner. " A singular animal. When you stand still, he attends you ; if you lose any thing, he will fetch it, and jump in the water after your stick."

Faust. " You are right; I see no symptoms of a spirit, it is all the effects of teaching."

Wagner. " He deserves your favour."

*They enter the gate of the town.*

Scene the Study.

Enter Faust with the Dog.

Faust. " Dark night awakens our better soul. The ferocious and
wild passions rest in sleep. Charity and the love of God are now
stirring."

"Lay down, dog! Do not run to and fro! Why do you snuffle at the threshold? Lay down behind the stove; here is my best cushion.— Be a welcome and a quiet guest."

"When the friendly lamp burns in our narrow cell, our bosom
clears up, if the heart knows itself. Reason speaks again, and hope
buds afresh; we long for the rivulets, for the springs of life."

"Dog, snarl not!—We are used that men scoff at things which
they do not comprehend, that they grumble at good things which

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frequently are troublesome to them: would a dog snarl, threat, as they do?

Faust feels restless again; he turns to the Greek New Testament, and attempts to translate the beginning of St. John's Gospel.

"Dog, cease your howling and barking, or begone; the door is open.—What do I see?—My dog swells immensely!—Now he is like an hippotamus, with sparkling eyes and terrific face.—Oh, I have you safe. Solomon's key will do for such brood of hell.

*(Spirit in the passage.)* "A captive is within. Follow him not.—Can you help him? abandon him not, for he has done us many favours."

*(Faust* tries the magic spells of the spirits of the four elements against the beast, but to no purpose.) "Art thou a fugitive from hell? Then behold this character, which the black host must respect. (See Plate III.) It swells now with bristles, banished behind the stove; it dissolves into a mist. Do not ascend to the ceiling! Lay down at your master's feet. Await not the strongest charm of my art."

*Mephistopheles*, whilst the mist descends, advances from behind the stove, dressed as a travelling student. "Why this stir? What do you want, Sir?"

*Faust*. "So this was the dog's kernel! A travelling student? A laughable case."

*Mephistopheles* acknowledges that Faust has made him tremble.

Faust asks his name.

*Mephistopheles* ridicules so futile a question from a philosopher who covets the essence of things.

*Faust*. "With such folks as you, the essence generally is known by the name, being plain enough, when we call you Beelzebub, Destroyer, Liar. Well, then, who art thou?

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*Mephist.* " A part of that power which always wills evil, yet ever produces good. I am the spirit who always denies; and that justly; for whatever is made, deserves to perish; therefore, it were better if nothing were made. Accordingly all which you call sin, destruction, or in one word, evil, is my proper element."

*Faust.* " You call yourself a part, yet stand before me whole?"

*Mephist.* " I speak modest truth; whilst man, that little world of folly, commonly conceits himself to be a whole. I am a part of that darkness which engendered light; proud light which flows from matter, and is intercepted by bodies: thus, I hope, it will not exist long, but will perish with materiality."

*Faust.* " Now I comprehend your noble functions. You can annihilate nothing en masse; you, therefore, attempt to do it in detail. To the ever-active, salutary, creative power, you oppose the clenched hand of a devil, which spitefully closes itself in vain! Commence a better trade, thou whimsical son of Chaos."

*Mephist.* " We'll really consider of it more another time. May I go now?"

*Faust.* Why do you ask permission? Now, that I have made your acquaintance, visit me in any way you like. Here is the window, there the door; or the chimney is likewise at your service."

*Mephist.* " I confess a trifling obstacle prevents my exit, the pen tagon on your threshold."—

*Faust.* " How did you get in then?"

*Mephist.* " Examine it closely. It is not correctly drawn. One angle, that which faces the outside, has a little gap.—The *dog* did not perceive it, when he leaped in; but now the thing wears a different aspect; the *devil* cannot get out."

*Faust.* " But why do you not go out at the window?"

*Mephist.* " It is a law with devils and spectres, ' the way by which

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they enter, by that they must go out.' The former is optional, the latter is imperative on us."

*Faust.* " Even hell has its laws! I like the thing: then I suppose a covenant may be made with such gentry as you, and that safely ?"

*Mephist.* " What we promise, you shall have, without any stinting deduction. But this is not to be done in a moment. I beg you to dimiss me for the present, I pray you.

*Faust.* " I have laid no trap for you. You fell into the snare of your own accord. When we have caught the devil, we should hold him fast; he is not easily caught a second time."

*Mephist.* " If you wish it, I am ready to remain; but on condition that I may shew you my art, to pass the time away."

*Faust.* " With all my heart; you may do so; but let it be a pleasing art."

*Mephist.* desires the spirits to sing, and promises to gratify his sight, his smell, his taste and feeling.

*Spirits* sing and produce various sights, till *Faust* falls asleep.

*Mephist.* thanks them, and says that Faust is not knowing enough to detain the devil. He desires the spirits to keep him asleep by pleasant dreams. Then in his capacity as lord of rats and mice, flees, frogs, bugs, lice, &c. he calls a rat, and commands it to gnaw off the fatal angle of the pentagon, which he sprinkles with oil. This is done, and he is off.

*Faust* awakes, and finds that he is cheated; fancies the devil had appeared to him in a dream, and that the dog has run away.

## Scene, the Study.

*Faust.* " Some one knocks. Come in!"

*Mephistopheles* enters dressed as a noble squire, in a red suit, embroidered with a silk mantle, in his hat a cock's feather, a long,

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narrow sword by his side. He advises Faust to dress himself like him, in order to be disengaged and free, and to enjoy life.

Faust. " In any garb I shall feel the torments of this confined life on earth. I am too old merely to play, too young to be without desires. What gratification can the world afford me? Existence is a burden to me, my life is hateful."

Mephist. " And yet death is never a welcome guest."

Faust. " O! blessed is the man, around whose temple death winds the blood-stained wreath of laurel in the glory of victory; the man, whom Death finds after a merry dance in the arms of his beloved. Oh! had I but dropt down unsouled, in raptures before the energies of the supreme spirit!"

Mephist. " And yet I know a certain person who would not drink a brown mixture the other night."

Faust. " It seems you are fond of watching our actions."

Mephist. " I am not omniscient; but I know many things."

Faust. " Though a sweet and well-known tune snatched me from the dreadful conflict of thoughts, and by the recollection of blissful days deceived the remnant of youthful sensations; I now curse whatever captivates the soul with lures and juggling, and binds it in this den of grief by delusive, false, and flattering spells! Cursed be the high opinion of conceit in which the mind inwraps itself! Cursed be the delusion of the phenomena, which attach themselves to our senses! Cursed be our hypocritical dreams of fame, the deception of our lasting name! Cursed whatever flatters us under the specious denomination of possessions, such as a wife and child, a servant and a plough! Cursed be Mammon, when he excites us to bold actions by treasure, when he lays us a pillow for idle enjoyment! Cursed be the balmy virtue of the grape! A curse to the greatest kindness of love! A curse to hope! A curse to faith! and above all things, a curse to patience!"

Chorus of invisible Spirits.

Woe! woe!
Thou hast destroy'd it,
That charming world;
At thy potent stroke,
It falls in pieces!
A demi-god has destroy'd it!
We shall carry
The fragments off to naught,
And bewail
The loss of that beauty.
Powerful
Son of the earth, oh!
Build it again,
In your own bosom rear it up!
Commence thou
A new course of life
With clear sensations,
And then new hymns will
Anon resound!

*Mephistopheles*. " These are the little ones of my own crew. Hear what sage advice they give for enjoyment and action. They want to entice you to quit your solitude, in which the senses and juices are stagnated.

"Cease to indulge your grief, which preys upon your life like a vulture. The worst company will make you sensible that you are a man amongst men. If you will go through life in my company, I will submit to be yours directly. I am your companion, and if it suits you, I am your servant, your slave!"

*Faust*. " And what shall I perform for you in return?"

*Mephist*. " You have a long time granted for that."

*Faust*. " No, no! The devil is selfish, and does not grant favours for nothing. Speak out, and state your terms distinctly; such a servant is dangerous."

*Mephist*. " I will engage to serve you *here*; I will neither flinch

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from, nor be idle in your service: when we meet again *yonder*, you
shall do the like for me."

*Faust.* " I care little for *yonder* world. When you have first dashed
this world to atoms, the other may arise afterwards. My joys spring
from this earth, and it is this sun which shines on my sufferings: when
I can separate from them, then let happen what will and may.
Whether they hate and love in the future state, and whether there be
something above and below in yonder spheres, of such things I will
not hear another word."

*Mephist.* " Being in this mind, you may venture. Engage your-
self; and you shall see my arts and rejoice; I'll give you what no
man ever saw."

*Faust.* " Poor devil! what can you give? Was ever the spirit of a man in his aspiring tension, comprehended by any such as you? But you have got food which does not satisfy hunger; you have got yellow gold, which never enduring, separates in your hand like quick-silver; a game, at which we never win; a girl, who, reclining in my bosom, engages with a neighbour by ogling; the godlike enjoyment of honour, which vanishes like a meteor. Shew me the fruit which rots ere it be pluck'd, and trees which daily sprout fresh verdure!"

*Mephist.* " Such orders do not frighten me; I can procure you
such treasures. But, my friend, the time approaches when we wish
to enjoy good fare in quiet ease."

*Faust.* " If ever I lie down satisfied on a bed of sloth, then may it be my ruin! If by flattery you can ever deceive me, so that I should be pleased with myself; if you can cheat me with enjoyment, let that be my last day! This will I wager!"

*Mephist.* " Done!"

*Faust.* " And done! If I should ever say to the fleeting moment,
pray, tarry! thou art charming! then may you lock me in fetters;

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then am I willing to perish; then the knell of death may toll; then
shall you be free from your service; the clock may stand, its hand
may drop; time shall be over with respect to me!"

*Mephist.* " Consider it well, we shall not forget it."

*Faust.* " And you are fully entitled; I have not ventured rashly. As I go on, I am a slave: whether yours, or whose, I care not."

*Mephist.* " I shall perform my duty forthwith, this very day, at the doctor's feast. Only this!---As life and death are uncertain, I request a few lines." (See Plate IV.)

*Faust.* " You want a written voucher, fool! Did you never know a man, and the word of a man? Is it not enough, that my given word shall decide my fate for ever? Does not the world rave madly on like a rushing torrent, and shall I be bound by a promise? But this persuasion is rooted in our heart. Happy is the man who carries faith in his pure bosom; he will regret no sacrifice! But a piece of parchment with hand and seal is a bugbear which all men shun. The word dies away in the pen, the wax and skin alone retain the bond. What dost thou want of me, Evil Spirit? Brass, marble, parchment, or paper? Shall I write with a graver, a chisel, or a pen? I give you the choice."

*Mephist.* " How you inflate your oratory in the heat of temper! Any slip of paper will do. Sign your name with a little drop of blood."

*Faust.* " If this fully satisfies you, I'll comply with the silly whim."

*Mephist.* " Blood is a very peculiar juice."

*Faust.* " Fear not that I should break this covenant! To aspire with all my energy is exactly what I promise. I was inflated with too much vanity; I belong only to thy rank of beings. The great spirit has slighted me; nature locks herself up from me. The thread of meditation is broken; I have nauseated all knowledge long since. Let us assuage the glowing passions in the depths of sensuality! Let every wonder be instantly ready, enveloped in impenetrable magic!

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Let us plunge into the rustling stream of time, into the rolling course of events! There let pain and enjoyment, let success and mortification, alternately succeed as they can. A man acts restlessly."

*Mephist.* " No measure or term is placed to you. Boldly lay hold of pleasure, and be not bashful."

*Faust.* " Pleasure is not what I want. I devote myself to folly---to painful enjoyment---to hatred in love---to gratifying vexation. My bosom, cured of all thirst after knowledge, shall henceforth be open to all grief, and that which is allotted to the whole human race I wish to taste in my inmost self, to heap its weal and its woe upon my breast, and thus expand my own self into its whole essence, and, like the human race, at length go to wreck myself."

*Mephist.* " O, believe me, who many thousand years have chewed this hard food, from the cradle to the bier no man digests the old leaven! Believe me, the universe was only made for a God! He dwells in eternal splendour; us has he sent into darkness; and for you day and night are the only things suitable."

*Faust.* " But I will!"

*Mephist.* " Well, then, only one thing I fear; time is short, art is long. Let me instruct you. Associate with some poet; let him rove with his fancy, and heap all noble qualities upon your honoured *front*, the lion's courage, the stag's swiftness, the Italian's fiery blood, the long life of the Norwegian; let him find out for you the secret of combining generosity with craft, and of falling in love with the ardour of youth upon fixed rules. I should like to know such a person myself, and would call him Mr. Microcosm."

*Faust.* " But what am I? If it be impossible to obtain the crown of human nature, for which all sensations strive."

*Mephist.* " You are, after all---what you really are. Though you should wear a wig with a million of curls, and raise your feet on buskins a yard high, you will always remain what you are."

21

Faust. "I feel it; in vain have I scraped together all the treasures of the human intellect; yet when I sit down after all, no new energy stirs within me; I am not a hair's-breadth higher, not nearer to the infinite.

Mephist. "We must be wiser before the joys of life flee from us. Surely hands, feet, head, and every other part are yours; but because I enjoy every new thing, is it less mine on that account? When I can keep six steeds, is not their strength mine? I run as if I had twenty-four legs. Courage, then! leave off thinking, and fly forward through the world with me! I tell you, a speculative fellow is like a beast led about by an evil spirit in a circle on a barren heath, surrounded by the finest and most verdant pastures."

Faust. "How shall we set about it?

Mephist. "We'll go out. Let your neighbour Paunch tire himself and the boys. Why would you be plagued to thrash straw? The best of what you know, you dare not tell the lads. There, I hear some one coming in the passage."

Faust. "It is impossible for me to see him now."

Mephist. "The poor lad has been waiting a long while; he must not go unrelieved. Come, lend me your gown and cap; the masquerade will make me look nobly."

(He changes his dress.)

"Now leave it to my wit. I want only a quarter of an hour. In the meanwhile prepare yourself for the delightful journey."

[Exit FAUST.

Mephist. (in Faust's long gown.) "Now, then, despise reason and science, the sublimest energies of man: may the lying spirit confirm you in delusion, and in the practice of magic, and I have you unconditionally! Fate has given him a mind which with unbridled ardour ever presses forward, and whose over-eager effort overleaps the pleasures of the world. I'll drag him through a roving life of tame insignifi-

G

22

cance; I'll make him sprawl, stare, stick fast, and his insatiate appetite
shall be ministered to with meat and drink; he will long in vain for
refreshment, and though he had not sold himself to the devil, still
must he go to ruin!

*A Disciple* enters, who requests the sham doctor to instruct him, as
he is desirous of becoming a great scholar.

*Mephist.* advises him to improve his time by a regular method; first
to frequent the lectures on logic, where his mind will be well drilled,
and laced up in Spanish boots, in order to creep on at a fair rate, and
not to flit, like a "will-o'-the-wisp," backwards and forwards. After-
wards he should learn metaphysics, taking lessons five hours every day;
and writing down what he learns. After a witty review of the learned
faculties (or professions of law, divinity, and physic), the Disciple pre-
sents his album to Mephistopheles, and desires him to write a line in
it for a keepsake.

*Mephistopheles* writes, and the *Disciple* reads as follows:

"*Eritis sicut deus, scientes bonum et malum.* The Disciple puts up
the book very respectfully and retires.

*Mephist.* " Only follow the old adage and my aunt, the serpent, and
you will surely one day rue your likeness to the gods!"

*Faust* (*entering*). " Whither shall we go now?"

*Mephist.* " Where you please. We'll see the lesser, next the greater
world."

*Faust.* " I never could conform myself to the world with my long
beard, and shall always be at a loss."

*Mephist.* " Pooh! You will soon learn the way. The moment you
assume an air of self-confidence you possess manners."

*Faust.* " How shall we travel? Where are your horses, carriage, and
coachmen?"

*Meph.* " We need only spread your mantle; it will carry us through
the air. Only take no large bundle with you. A little gas, which I

23

shall prepare, will lift us up from the earth, and if we are light, we
shall ascend quickly. I congratulate you on your new course of life.

Scene, Auerbach's Cellar in Leipzig.

Merry fellows drinking.

Frosch, Brander, Siebel, and Altmayer conversing, drinking and singing alternately. They pass some low jokes, and, amongst other things, talk of electing a Pope, who must possess a decisive quality, to exalt the man.---(A chaste allusion to the sella stercoraria.)

Enter FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES.

Mephist. " I must first introduce you to merry company, that you may see how easy it is to live. These good people enjoy a feast every day. With little wit and much self-complacency each of them turns in a narrow circle, like kittens hunting their own tail. As long as they do not complain of the head-ache, and the host gives them credit, they are happy and free from care."

Brander. " They are travellers; I can see it by their odd manners."

Siebel. " For what do you take the strangers?"

Frosch. " Let me alone! I'll manage them with a full glass. They seem to be noblemen; they look proud and discontented.

Brander. " I'll lay a wager they are mountebanks."

Altmayer. " Perhaps so."

Frosch. " Mind how I shall quiz them."

Mephistopheles to Faust. " These fellows would never smell the
devil, were he even to seize them by the collar."

Faust compliments them.

Siebel returns the compliment, and casting a side glance at Mephistopheles, says (aside), "Does that fellow halt with one leg?"

24

Frosch. “I dare say you set off late from Rippach? Did you sup first with Jack Ketch?”

*Mephist.* “We quitted him to-day. We had some conversation with him lately. He talked much of his cousins, and begged to be remembered to every one of them.”---*(He bows to Frosch.)*

*Altmayer (aside)*. “There’s for you! He is the sort.”

*Siebel*. “A sly chap!”

After some further conversation (in which Faust bears no part) and a song by *Mephistopheles*, the latter says that he would be glad to drink to the success of reform, if their wine were better. He offers to give them some from his cellar, if the host would not be angry.”

*Siebel* takes upon him to answer for the host, and desires to have some of it.

*Mephist.* takes a gimblet out of a basket of tools belonging to the house, and asks each person what wine he desires to have.

They each of them choose, apparently much surprised.

*Mephistopheles* bores a hole in the edge of the table where Frosch sits, and asks for a bit of bees'-wax to use for corks, which is produced and made into stoppers by one of the company, whilst *Mephistopheles* bores holes towards each person of the company. They think he is jeering them, or playing juggler's tricks, but he assures them to the contrary.”

When all the holes are bored and stopped up,

*Mephist.* (with strange gestures,)

“ The vine bears grapes !
The goat has horns ;
Wine is juice, but the vine is wood,
The table of wood, can also yield wine.
Here see deeper into nature !
This is a miracle, only believe it:
Now quickly draw your corks and drink !”

(See Plate V.) they draw the corks: the wine which each had chosen runs immediately into their glasses.

25

"O! the choice fountain which yields our fill!"

*Mephist.* " But only take care you do not spill."

They drink repeatedly.

*All* singing. " We feel a savage joy, just as five hundred swine
would."

*Faust* wishes to go, but *Mephistopheles* desires him to stop and see
the glorious effects of their beastliness.

*Siebel* drinks carelessly; the wine flows on the floor, and turns into
a flame.---" Help! Fire! Help! It burns like hell!"

*Mephist.* setting a spell upon the flame. " Be quiet, friendly
element."

*To Siebel.*

"For this time it was only a drop of purgatory."

The company quarrel with Mephistopheles; *Altmayer* draws a cork
from the table, and the fire flies in his face.

*Altmayer.* " I burn! I burn!"

*Siebel.* " Witchcraft! At him! That fellow is outlawed!"

They draw their knives, and advance upon Mephistopheles.

*Mephistopheles* with a serious look,

"False vision and face
Change sense and place!
Be here and be there!"

They stand astonished, and look at each other.

*Altmayer.* " Where am I? What a fine country!"

*Frosch.* " Vineyards! Do I see clearly?"

*Siebel.* " And grapes close at hand!"

*Brander.* " Under this green arbour, see what a vine! see what a
grape!"

He takes Siebel by the nose. The others do the same reciprocally,
and brandish their knives.

27

years younger? Woe is me, if you know nothing better. My hope
is gone already. Has nature, and has a noble spirit discovered
nothing better?"

*Mephist.* " My friend, now you talk wisely again. Yet there is
also a natural means to make you young; but it is written in a dif-
ferent book, and is a strange chapter."

*Faust.* " I must know it."

*Mephist.* " Well! A means, to be had without money, without
physician and witchcraft. Go to the field; set about hoeing and
digging; feed on simple fare; live with cattle like a beast; and ma-
nure the soil which you reap yourself. This is the best means, I assure
you, to make you young for eighty years to come."

*Faust.* " I am not used to that; I cannot submit to take a spade in
my hand; I do not like to lead a confined life."

*Mephist.* " Then we must apply to the witch."

*Faust.* " What, to the old woman? Can you not brew the beverage
yourself?"

*Mephist.* " A pretty pastime for me, forsooth! I could build a
thousand bridges in the time required for such a tedious work. It
takes many years to ferment well, and the ingredients are very strange.
Though the devil has taught her, yet the devil cannot make it."

*To the Animals.*

" It seems your mistress is not at home."

*The Animals.* " At a feast; from home; gone up the chimney."

*Mephist.* " What are you stewing?"

*Animals.* " Beggars' broth."

*Meph.* " Then you have a numerous public."

*The male monkey* approaches Mephistopheles fawning. " O throw
the dice and make me rich, and let me win! I am badly off, but had
I money, I should be in my senses.

28

*Mephist.* " How happy would the monkey be, could he put in
the lottery !"

In the meanwhile the young monkeys play with a large earthen-
ware globe, and roll it about.

*The male monkey.* " That is the world ; it rises and falls, and rolls continually ; it rings like glass, and how brittle it is ! 'Tis hollow within. Take this fire-screen, and sit down in the arm-chair !"

*Faust.* Standing before a mirror, alternately approaching and receding from it. " What do I see? What a heavenly figure appears in this magic mirror! O Love ! lend me your swiftest wings and bear me to her! Ah, when I venture to go near, I can only see her as in a mist.— There is nothing to equal her on earth."

*Mephist.* " I know where to find such a one for you. For the present, look your fill."

Faust continues to look in the glass. Mephistopheles stretching
his limbs in the arm-chair, and playing with the screen, proceeds :

"Here I sit like a king on his throne; I hold the sceptre, but not the crown. (See Plate VI.)"

*The Animals* having made many odd gestures, bring a crown to Mephistopheles with great shouts. They handle it awkwardly, it falls, and breaks into two pieces, with which they dance about.

*Faust.* facing the mirror. " Alas! I am almost distracted.

*Mephist.* (Pointing to the animals.) " My head is almost ready to turn."

The cauldron being neglected by the female monkey, boils over;
a great flame ascends the chimney. *The witch* descends through
the flame, with dreadful screams. *Mephistopheles* makes himself known
to her; she wonders he has not a cloven foot; but he tells her, that
refinement has extended even to the devil, who no longer displays his
horns, tail, and claws; and as to that foot, which is indispensable,

29

as it would prejudice people against him, he, like many young men,
wears false calves to his legs.

*The witch dancing*.—“ I almost lose my senses at seeing Squire Sa-
tan once more with me !”

Mephist. “ That name, woman, I hate !”

Witch. “ Why so ? What harm did it do you ?”

Mephist. “ It is set down in the book of fables long since; but men
do not fare a whit the better on that account; they have got rid of the
evil one; the evil ones continue amongst them. Now give us a glass
of that well-known liquor! But of the oldest, for age doubles its
strength.”

Witch. “ With all my heart. Here is a bottle of which I some-
times drink myself, and which does not stink at all; I’ll give you a
glass of it with pleasure. (Aside to Mephistopheles.) But if that
gentleman drinks it unprepared, you know he cannot live an hour.”

Mephist. “ He is a good friend, to whom it will be of service.
Draw your circle, and give him a cup full.”

*The witch*, with strange gestures, describes a circle, and places a
number of whimsical things in it: the glasses begin to ring, the caul-
drons to resound, making music. At length she fetches a large book,
and places the monkeys in the circle, who serve her for a desk, and
to bear the torch. She beckons *Faust* to step to her; *Mephist-
topheles* invites *Faust* to walk into the circle. *The witch* reads and
emphatically declaims some nonsensical stuff from the book, and
thereupon, with many ceremonies, pours the draught into a cup.
As *Faust* is putting it to his lips, a slight flame issues from it. (See
Plate VII.)

Mephist. “ Drink it up boldly! Courage! Thou intimate with the
devil, and wouldst shrink from a flame !”

*Faust* steps out of the circle, and the witch destroys it.

I

30

Mephist. " Now let us walk ! You must not stand still.—You must absolutely perspire."

Faust. " Let me look in the mirror once more !"

Mephist. " No ! No ! You shall soon see the paragon of all women actually before you. (aside.) With this draught in your body, you will see a Helen in every woman."

Scene. A Street. (See Plate VIII.)

FAUST.—MARGARET passing by.

Faust. " My fair lady, may I venture to offer you my arm and company?"

Margaret. " I am neither a lady nor fair; I can walk home by myself." She disengages herself and walks off.

Faust. " By heavens, this girl is beautiful ! I never saw her equal. She is so modest and virtuous, though at the same time a little pert. Her red lips, her blooming cheeks, I shall never forget them ! How she casts down her eyes ! it is deeply imprinted in my heart: and how quick she was with a smart answer: why, this is quite delightful !"

Enter MEPHISTOPHELES.

Faust. " Hear me, you must get me that girl !"

Mephist. " Which?"

Faust. " She who passed by just now."

Mephist. " What, her? She came from her priest, who has absolved her from all her sins: she is quite an innocent creature, who went to confess what she had never committed. I have no power over her !"

Faust. " But she is past fourteen. And if she rest not in my arms this night, you and I shall part at midnight."

31

*Mephistopheles* tells him that it will take at least fourteen days merely to find an opportunity.

*Faust.* " Had I but seven hours leisure, I should not want the devil's assistance to seduce that innocent creature."

*Mephist.* " We cannot take her by force; we must use cunning."

*Faust.* " Get me something from that angel! Take me to her bed-chamber! Get me a handkerchief from her breast! Any thing be-longing to her!

*Mephistopheles* promises to take him to her chamber that very day.

*Faust.* " Procure me a present for her." [Exit.

*Mephist.* " To make a present directly? That is well done! Now he will succeed! I know many places and many buried treasures; I must look round a little." [Exit.

EVENING.

*A small neat chamber.*

*Margaret* platting and tying up her hair. (See Plate IX.) "I would give any money to know who that gentleman was whom I saw to-day. He certainly looked very handsome. I could read in his looks that he is of noble family, or he would not have been so presuming. [Exit.

Enter MEPHISTOPHELES and FAUST.

*Mephist.* " Come in softly, come in!

*Faust.* (after a short pause.) " Pray leave me alone."

*Mephist.* (prying about.) " Not many girls are so neat." [Exit.

*Faust.* (looking round him.) " Hail, thou sweet twilight which prevailest in this sanctuary. Seize my heart, thou sweet pang of love, which longing, livest on the dew of hope. How all around breathes

an air of repose, of order, of content! what riches in this poverty!
In this prison what happiness!"

He throws himself down in the leathern arm-chair by the bed-side.
(See Plate X.)

"Receive me! thou, who in joy and grief hast received her an-cestors with open arms! How many children have often clung around this paternal throne! Here, perhaps, my lovely girl, with the plump cheeks of childhood, grateful for a Christmas gift, has piously kissed the withered hand of her grandfather. I feel, dear girl! thy spirit of competence and order breathe around me!—And here—(*He raises one of the bed-curtains.*)—What a fluttering of joy seizes me! Here I could tarry for hours. Nature! here in light dreams thou didst perfect the inborn angel."

"And thou! what brought thee here?—Why does thy heart feel oppressed? Faust, pitiful wretch! I no longer know thee. I feel melting in a dream of love! Are we the sport of every pressure of the air?—And should she enter this moment, how should I be punished for my presumption! The great man, ah how little! would fall en-raptured at her feet."

*Mephist.* " Be quick! I see her coming below."

*Faust.* " Begone! I will never leave!"

*Mephist.* shews him a little box of presents, which he places in a cupboard, and closes the lock again, advising Faust to go. They depart.

*Margaret* enters, carrying a lamp. "It is so close here." She opens the window. "And yet it is not warm without. I feel, I know not how—I wish my mother had come home. A shivering runs all over my body—What a foolish, fearful girl I am!"

She sings a ballad, whilst she undresses herself. She opens the cupboard to put in her cloaths, and finds the casket of jewellery.

"How did this pretty box come here? I am sure I locked the cup-

33

board. Tis very strange! What can it be? Perhaps some person left
it as a pledge, and my mother has lent money on it. There is a small
key tied to it; I think I will open it. What is that? I never saw any
thing like it! Jewellery! A noble lady might wear these things on the
greatest holiday. How will this chain fit me? To whom can these
precious things belong?"

She decorates herself with them, and steps before the looking-glass.
(See Plate XI.)

"I wish these ear-rings only were mine! I look much better with them on. What avails beauty, young girls? It is very well, but that is all. They praise you with a mixture of pity. Every person longs for gold; every thing depends upon it. Alas, we poor creatures!

A Public Walk.

*Faust* walking up and down, thoughtful.

*Mephistopheles* advancing to him. "By all slighted love! by the hellish element! I wish I knew something worse for a curse."

*Faust.* " What ails you?"

*Mephist.* " I would this instant send myself to the devil, if I were not a devil myself !"

*Faust.* " Is your head turned? How it becomes you to rave like a madman!"

*Mephist.* " Only think, the ornaments provided for Margaret, are seized by a Friar!—The mother got sight of the articles; she immediately began to be alarmed; for that woman's scent is very keen in distinguishing whether a thing be holy or prophane. " My child," said she, "ill-gotten wealth entraps the soul, and preys upon the vitals. We will devote it to the Mother of God." Margaret made a wry face. The mother sent for a friar, who coveting the jewels, said,

K

34

you are in the right way: he who conquers is the gainer. The Pope's church has a good stomach, has swallowed whole countries, and yet never was surfeited. The church alone, my good women, can digest ill-gotten wealth."

*Faust.* " That is a general practice; a Jew and an Emperor can do as much."

*Mephist.* " Thereupon he pocketed the clasps, chains and rings, like so many mushrooms; returned no more thanks than for a basket of nuts; promised every heavenly reward, and left them much edified."

*Faust.* " And Margaret?"

*Mephist.* " Is now sitting full of uneasiness, knowing neither what she wants, nor what she should want, and thinking night and day of the trinkets, but more of him who brought them for her."

*Faust.* " Get her some other jewels immediately! The first were not of much consequence. And get acquainted with her neighbour."

*Mephist.* " Yes, my Lord, with all my heart." [Exit Faust.

*Mephist.* " A fool, when in love, would destroy the sun, the moon, and all the stars in heaven, by way of pastime for his mistress."

[Exit.]

## The Neighbour's House.

*Martha (alone).* " God forgive my dear husband; he did not use me well, to go into the wide world, and leave me alone. I am sure I never vexed him; I loved him from my heart. (She weeps.) Perhaps he is dead! Oh dear! if I had but a certificate of his death!"

*Margaret* enters, and shews her a casket much more valuable than the first.

*Martha.* " You must not tell your mother of it; she would take it again to her confessor."

*Margaret.* " Only see! Only look here!"

*Martha* (*putting them on*). See Plate XII.—"Oh, thou lucky creature!"

*Margaret*. "Alas! I dare neither shew myself with them in the street, nor at church."

*Martha*. "Come to me frequently, and put them on privately; walk up and down for an hour before the looking-glass; we will enjoy it; and then some opportunity will present itself; some festival will happen, at which we may shew them to the people by degrees. Perhaps your mother may not notice it, or we may tell her a story." (A knock.)

*Margaret*. "Oh dear! Perhaps it is my mother."

*Martha* peeps through the curtain.—"It is a strange gentleman. Walk in!"

*Mephist.* enters, begs pardon, and asks for Mrs. Martha Swertlein. See Plate XIII.

*Martha*. "I am she. What is your pleasure, Sir?"

*Mephist.* (*aside to Martha.*) "I know you now, that is enough for me; you have a noble visitor there; excuse my freedom; I will return in the afternoon."

*Martha*. "Only think, child, the gentleman takes you for a noble lady."

*Margaret*. "I am a poor young girl; you are too polite, Sir; the jewels are not mine."

*Mephist.* tells Martha that her husband is dead, and that he desired to be remembered to her."

*Martha* weeps, and is almost dying.

*Margaret*. "Therefore I never wish to love; I should die with grief for such a loss."

*Mephist.* tells Martha that her husband lies buried at Padua with St. Anthony, in consecrated ground; and to her question, whether he sends her any thing, answers—"Yes, a request of great import-

36

ance: to cause three hundred masses to be said for him. For the
rest, my pockets are empty."

Martha. " What! not a keepsake? No jewels?"

Mephist. proceeds in his story, that her husband did not waste his
money, and that he repented of his faults; the bed on which he died
was rather better than a dunghill, being straw half-rotten; his last
wish was, that his wife might forgive him for having forsaken her.

Martha (sobbing). "Oh, the good man! I have forgiven him long
since."

Mephist. " But, said he, she was more in fault than I."

Martha. " What a liar! To lie so on the verge of the grave,
shocking!"

Mephist. continues telling her, that her husband, when he sailed
from Malta, prayed for his wife and children; that his vessel then
took a Turkish vessel with treasure for the Grand Signior, and he got
a good share of the prize-money.

Martha. " What! Pray where is it? Did he bury it?"

Mephist. " It is all gone. A fair lady took care of him at Naples,
and shewed him much kindness, of which he felt the effects to his
blessed end."

Martha. "Oh, the villain! the thief to his children! And all his
poverty, all his indigence, could not alter his shameful course of life."

Mephist. " You see, he has paid for it with his life. In your place,
I would mourn for him a year, and then look out for another husband."

Martha. "Ah! I shall not easily find another like him. He was a
good-natured fool: only he liked to rove, and was too fond of foreign
women, foreign wine, and the cursed dice."

Mephist. "Well, well! there is no harm, if he connived at you for
about as much. I swear, on this condition, I would change rings
with you."

Martha. "O, Sir, you are joking!"

37

*Mephist. (aside.)* " Now it is time to be off. She would tie the devil himself to his word. Farewell, ladies!"

*Martha.* wishes to have some proof of her husband's death."

*Mephist.* promises to bring a friend to certify it; and assures Margaret, that his friend is very polite to ladies, and has travelled much."

*Margaret.* " I should blush before the gentleman."

*Mephist.* " Before no king on earth."

*Martha.* " We'll expect the two gentlemen this evening in my garden behind the house."

A Street.

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.

*Mephist.* informs Faust that he shall see Margaret this evening at Martha's, who is just the thing for a bawd and a gypsey; but that they must certify her husband's burial at Padua.

*Faust.* " Very wisely! We must make the journey first."

*Mephist.* " Sancta Simplicitas! There is no need of that; only give your evidence without knowing any thing about it."

*Faust.* refuses to do so.

*Mephist.* " O, holy man! Would it be the first time that you bore false witness? Did you not boldly give definitions of God, the world, motion, man, and the soul? And, if you rightly consider, did you know more about these things than about Mr. Swertlein's death?"

*Faust.* " You are, and always will be a liar and a sophist."

*Mephist.* " Yes, if I did not know better. For to-morrow you will not delude poor Margaret. You will then in vain swear the love of your soul to her."

*Faust.* " But really from my very heart."

L

38

A Garden.

MARGARET on FAUST'S Arm.—MARTHA with MEPHISTOPHELES,

*Walking up and down.*

After some indifferent conversation between the two couple as they
pass by,---

*Faust.* " Simplicity, Innocence never knows herself and her sacred value. Humility, meekness, the greatest gifts of kind, bountiful Nature."

*Margaret.* "Think of me only for a moment; I shall have time enough to think of you."

*Faust.* " Are you frequently alone?"

*Margaret.* " Yes, our family is but small, yet it must be attended to. We keep no servant; I am obliged to cook, sweep, knit, and sew, and run about both early and late. And my mother is so particular. Not that she need be so very sparing; for my father has left some property, a small house, and a little garden out of town. My brother is a soldier; my little sister is dead. I had much trouble with that child, but would gladly go through it again, so much I loved her."

*Faust.* " An angel, if she resembled you."

The conversation goes on between them, and when they pass on,
*Mephistopheles* and *Martha* walk by, conversing, and pass on.

*Faust.* " You knew me again, you little angel, the moment I entered the garden!"

*Margaret.* " Did you not see? I cast down my eyes,"

*Faust.* " And you forgive the liberty I took---my insolent boldness when you came from church the other day?"

39

*Margaret.* " I was surprized, I had never been served so; no person could speak ill of me. Oh! thought I, did he see in my behaviour any thing forward or improper? He seemed all at once to take it into his head to make up to me. Shall I own it? I could not tell what stirred here immediately in your favour; but, indeed, I was very angry with myself, for not finding it in my heart to be more angry with you."

*Faust.* " My sweet love!"

*Margaret.* " Stop a moment."

She plucks a corn-flower, and pulls off the leaves one after the other.

*Faust.* " What does this mean? A nosegay?"

*Margaret.* " No, it only means play."

*Faust.* " How so?"

*Margaret.* " Done! You'll laugh at me."

She pulls off the leaves, and mutters half aloud.—(See Plate XIV.)—
" He loves me—loves me not—loves me—not—loves me—not."

Tearing of the last leaf with great delight—" He loves me!"

*Faust.* Yes, love! Let this decision of the flower be to thee a sentence of the gods. He loves thee! Do you comprehend what that means? He loves thee!"—(He grasps both her hands.)

*Margaret.* " I tremble!"

*Faust.* "Oh, tremble not! Let this look, this pressure of your hands, tell you what is beyond expression: To yield ourselves up completely and to feel delight, which must be everlasting! For ever! Its end would be despair! No, without end! without end!"

*Margaret* presses his hands, disengages herself, and runs away.
He stands a moment in thought, then follows her.

*Martha* coming in. " Night approaches.

*Mephist.* " Yes, and we will go.

*Martha.* " I would beg you to stay longer, but this is a very cen-
sorous town. The neighbours are as if they had nothing else to do,

40

than to watch one's steps and actions; and we should be slandered,
were we ever so careful. And our young couple?"

Mephist. " Have flown up that walk, like sportive butterflies."

Martha. " He seems to be fond of her."

Mephist. " And she of him. That is the way of the world.

A summer-house.

Margaret runs in, conceals herself behind the door, places her
fingers' ends to her lips, and peeps through the chink. " He is
coming!"

Faust enters. " Ah you little rogue, thus you trick me! Did I
catch you!" (He kisses her.)

Margaret. (embracing him and returning the kiss.) (See Plate XV.)
" Dearest man! I love thee from my heart!"

Mephistopheles knocks.

Faust. (stamping with his foot.) " Who's there?"

Mephist. " A friend!"

Faust. " A beast."

Mephist. " I think it is time to go."

Martha arrives. " Yes, Sir, it is late."

Faust. " May I see you home?"

Margaret. " My mother would---Farewell!"

Faust. " And must I go? Farewell !

Martha. " Adieu !"

Margaret. " Soon to meet again."

[Exeunt Faust and Mephistopheles.

Margaret. " Dear me! How many things such a man can think !
I stand before him ashamed, and say yes to every thing. What a
poor ignorant thing I am. I cannot conceive what he can find in
me." [Exit.

41

A Forest and a Cavern.

FAUST solus.

"Supreme spirit, thou gavest me all for which I prayed thee. Thou hast not in vain turned thy face towards me in the fire. Thou gavest me glorious nature for a kingdom, and the faculty to feel, to enjoy her. Not merely a chilly gazing visit dost thou permit me; thou grantest me to penetrate into the breast of nature, as into the bosom of a friend. Thou leadest the series of living creatures before me, and teachest me to know my brethren in the silent bush, in the air and water. When the storm howls and cracks in the forest, tears down the gigantic pine, crushing the neighbouring branches and trunks, and when the hill resounds with hollow thunder from its fall, then dost thou lead me to the secure cavern, shewest me myself, and barest the deep and secret wounds of my own breast. And before my view the pale clear moon ascends to the zenith; while from the walls of the rock, arise the silver forms of former ages, issuing from the damp bush, which waving before me, moderates the stern delight of contemplation."

"Oh! Now I feel that perfection is not allotted to man. To this
delight,

Which draws me near and nearer to the gods,
Thou gavest me, in addition, that companion
Whom I can no longer do without;
Though, cold and insolent, he doth debase
Me to myself, and into naught doth turn,
With the mere breath of words, thy fairest gift.
He fans within my breast a madd'ning fire,
Officious, prompts me to that fairest form.
Thus from desire I to enjoyment reel,
And in enjoyment for desire I pant."

M

42

Enter MEPHISTOPHELES.

Mephist. " Have you now led this kind of life long enough? How
can you find pleasure in it long? It will do to taste it once; but then
to something fresh!"

Faust. " I wish you had something else to do than to plague me on a good day."

Mephist. " Well! I'll let you alone, you need hardly desire me in earnest. Surely a fellow so unkind, tart and mad, as you are, is no great loss. All day long I have full employment! I can never trace in your looks, Sir, what you like, and what I am not to do."

Faust. " That is just the right tune! You require thanks for being
tiresome to me."

Mephist. " Poor son of the earth, how could you lead your life
without me?"

Faust. " If you could conceive what new energy of life this living
in the wilderness gives me, you would be devil enough to envy me
my happiness."

After some further conversation in the same strain, Mephistopheles
tells Faust, that his beloved girl sits fretting and moping, and cannot
forget him for a moment. At one time she weeps, at another ap-
pears composed, but is always in love.

Faust. " Thou serpent !"

Mephist. (aside.) " I lay, I'll catch you!"—

Faust. " Cursed villain! Get thee gone, and name not that fair
girl. Do not make my half-maddened senses desire her again!

Mephist. " She thinks you have forsaken her, and so you have
almost."

Faust. " I am near her, were I ever so far off, I can never forget,
never lose her."

43

*Mephist.* " I must laugh. What a pity! You shall go into your
fair one's chamber, not to death."

*Faust.* " What heavenly joy is in her arms! Though I should re-
cline upon her bosom, yet I should always feel her woe. Am I not
the fugitive, the houseless wanderer, the barbarian without an object,
and without repose, who, like a water-fall, rushes from rock to rock
with eager fury. And she, with childlike quiescent passions in the
cottage, and all her homely occupations embraced in that little world.
And I, hated of God, was not satisfied to seize the rocks and beat
them into fragments. Herself, her peace of mind I have under-
mined! Thou, O hell, didst demand this sacrifice! Help me, devil,
to curtail the time of anguish! May the wreck of her fate fall upon
me, and may she sink with me."

*Mephist.* " How you boil and glow again! Go in, you fool, and console her! Where your headstrong little brain discerns no alternative, it fancies directly that the end is come. Long live the brave! In other respects you are pretty well demonized. I know nothing more silly in the world, than a devil who despairs."

*Margaret's Chamber.*

*MARGARET at the spinning-wheel, alone.* (See Plate XVI.)

*Margaret.* " My peace of mind is gone, my heart is heavy; I
never find repose, ah, never!

"Where I have him not, there is my grave, all the world is the bitterness of gall to me. My poor head is turned, my poor senses are bewildered."

Martha's Garden.

MARGARET, FAUST.

Margaret. " Promise me, Henry! "

Faust. " Whatever I am able."

Margaret. " Now tell me, how do you stand with religion? You
are a very good man! but I think, you make very light of religion."

Faust. " Let that alone, my dear child! you feel that I wish you
well; I would lay down my life for my beloved friends. I will rob
no person of his faith and church."

Margaret. " That is not right, you must believe in it! "

Faust. " Must I? "

Margaret. " Ah! If I could prevail on you! And you do not
venerate the holy sacraments."

Faust. " I do revere them."

Margaret. " But without desire. You have not been to mass, to
confession, this long while. Do you believe in God? "

Faust. " My dear love, who can say, I believe in God? Ask the
priest, or the philosopher, and their answer is only a scoff at the
inquirer."

Margaret. " So you do not believe? "

Faust. " Do not misinterpret me, sweet face! Who can name
him? And who can confess, "I believe in him." Who can feel him,
and venture to say, "I do not believe in him?" The Being which
embraces all, preserves all. Does he not embrace and preserve thee,—
myself,—nay, his own self? Behold the arched vault of heaven above,
the firm earth below, the long enduring stars ascending with friendly ray.
I see you eye to eye, and within you every sensation crowds to the head
and the heart, and he moves near you invisibly, perceptible in eter-